Ethiopia
by drizzlyNovemberInMySoul
Summary: Jane, still rattled by the tragedy of losing her partner, follows Maura to Ethiopia. Rizzles. Crime-fighting. And an obit to Barry Frost.
1. The one where they fly

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to wrap this story up. I'd been so happy with the way JNash had changed things in the beginning of season 5 and how she really brought the show and especially Maura's and Jane's relationship back to life, but all of that changed for me when she let Jane's baby die – and in addition in a poorly told story as if it really didn't mean something. Therefore this story goes mainly to AU from episode 5x10 when Jane loses the baby.

I poured a lot of my own experiences into this story concerning visits to Ethiopia and the loss of a dear person, so please be gentle with everything you have to say to that.

* * *

~ Ethiopia ~

**.**

**Chapter 1: The one where they fly**

**.**

_**Somewhere over the Atlantic,  
Thursday, 3rd of September 2015**_

_So... let me try this._

_I feel silly enough, but Maura suggested it'd be good to _**write**_. Seems like she expects me to freak out once I set foot on another continent. I don't know. And now I'm just bored, so... why not._

_There's a lot we leave behind and a lot ahead of us, she said. Coming from her it has sounded just as cheesy._

_She's asleep now. You can tell she's used to flying. I can tell I'm not and I bet the stewardess, who keeps glancing over here, knows that, too. _

_Or maybe she's just checking on Alban. I didn't think people would get this nervous around a baby on a plane (didn't actually think I'd get so nervous). Although, Ma should have given me a clue, but... well, it's _**Ma**_. And he's doing fine, really. Sleeping just as sound as Maura as if flying is old to him already. _

_Seriously. How do they do that?_

_I know it's nonsense, but sometimes it seems he's more like Maura... I wonder whether one can actually rub off on a four month old person. He's never fuzzy like Ma says I was. He's... quiet, easy to please, and kinda serious. Sometimes that even creeps me out._

_Maura's hand rests on the rim of his infant car seat that is sitting between us. She thinks I don't notice, but she stays close to him all the time... and she shields him. Like at the gate today, when that guy dropped his carry-on and had cursed elaborately and excessively as his toiletries and a bunch of condoms rolled around the waiting area. I had to clasp a hand over my mouth so I wouldn't laugh too hard, but Maura..._

_She knelt down in front of Alban and put her hands at each side of his little head, gently covering his ears. Not with pressure, just to muffle the sound a little. And the way he looks at her. Sure, his face lights up whenever he finds a person's eyes, any person's, that's just the way babies communicate at that age (Maura keeps reminding me as if trying to eradicate that magic moment when this little guy actually recognizes me)._

_But the way he looks at her – it's like he feels safe. Hell, I feel safe when I watch their little routine. It's nothing like the over protectiveness of Ma, I mean, yeah, Maura is a helicopter herself, but it's so endearing... _

_and somehow a little sad._

_Woah, I have no idea where all that came from. Must be exhaustion. That weird Ice Age squirrel is bouncing over the screen two rows in front of me._

_Trying to sleep now._

**.**

**_Still – or actually again – up in the air, different ocean though,  
Friday, 4th of September_**

_Okay. Sleep is not coming for me tonight. I get it, why should it, been only awake for 23 hours, so?_

_Ratatouille is playing now. Feels like the airline is mocking me. How many kids are awake at 3:30 in the morning anyway? Maybe we should've flown first class like Maura suggested. At least then I'd have my own screen and a bigger selection of movies. Or I could play chess. But then I would have been even more nervous about Alban disturbing some ambassador or whoever. I don't even know why, Alban has never disturbed anyone in his small life span. Yet._

_Maybe I just don't feel like visiting Africa like that. I feel awful even writing that thought down. And I guess Maura would explain to me, how that's perfectly normal and at the same time unnecessary weird guilt, but she's yet asleep again! What a friend. _

_We just changed planes in Frankfurt. Alban slept through the whole thing. (Is that normal?) Not even the landing process made him stir! I was chewing gum and it still felt like my eardrum was gonna burst. And then that stewardess again. Told me in earnest that it might be easier for my baby if I'd be breastfeeding him while landing. Maura could barely contain herself at the incredulous stare I must've given that woman._

_No, thankfully he slept and even though I hate breastfeeding in public – I can hear Maura so clearly right now "Why? It's such a natural, beautiful thing!" and then the immediate response of Joey "We know, but there's a baby sucking on it!" – I really had wished, however, someone could breastfeed me, if only the pressure would subside. Still can't hear properly with my left ear._

_Standing and walking for a while had felt good. I've gotten a cart and put Alban's seat on top and we rolled down the lane of duty free._

_Boarding the next plane, I produced my ticket out of my handbag soaked with tea. Maura had rolled her eyes on me, though it's her fault, really. She's the one nagging me about keeping hydrated every 30 minutes that I don't take a sip of something. Which apparently isn't good, if you're flying, staying awake for too long and breastfeeding at the same time. Well, like I said, I haven't been breastfeeding all night, since my baby is either very considerate or simply doing a much better job at ignoring this terrible flight._

_The gate lady however didn't seem to mind, or at least not anymore as soon as she spotted Alban. He's doing a much better job there, too. Makes people go easy on me. It's weird. I never had that ability. Not even as an infant, I bet._

_Ha, there's this maybe two-year-old boy a couple of rows behind us, who keeps saying "Amen!" to each and every announcement that comes over the speakers._

_._

_Oh, I almost forgot: Ma gave me a letter I am to open on the plane. So sweet. I'm gonna attach it here:_

My dear baby,

stay safe – that above all on your incredible journey – so everything you see can reach you. You've got a precious heart, Jane, and what you think and feel and do makes you a beautiful person. I'll be waiting for you with your favorite lasagne. I'll be very happy, when you return.

Ma.

_I know our departure has been hard on her. Amazing that she didn't even mention Alban in that letter. She hated to let him go... I hated to make her. Yeah, since they first met and I told her I wanted him to have nonno's name and she had held him and kissed him, crying in pure beatitudine (I have no idea how to spell that), she has been hovering. A lot. More than she already was._

_But that card of her's... this is... it's incredibly strong of her to let me do this, to give me those wishes... she's the one with the precious heart. Maybe I don't give her enough credit for it, but she really manages to make her love about me – or Alban – and not about herself._

_I'll miss her._

_She thinks I'm insane for doing this, though. I know she does. It _**is**_ a bit crazy, who am I kidding. How on earth had Maura made it seem so reasonable?_

_Sure, she's got a business visa and will help out in that hospital. She knows her way around there, she's got needed skills. For her, a trip like this is meaningful. But what am I doing tagging along? Plus, with a baby in tow..._

_And I know that she knows I'm coming despite the fact that I don't know why. I'd like to know if that bugs her. _

_Phh, I feel like I should have taken care of my will or something before going to Africa. I know that's a bit morbid and actually awfully full of prejudices, but it's more like a feeling somewhere very deep... no, I just can't finish a sentence that pathetic. _

_Well, alright:_

_It's like I know I won't come back... in some way. Maybe just not in the same way. No idea._

_We're flying over Cairo right now. Even from my seat at the aisle I can make out thousands and thousands of lights, spreading out like cobwebs. It's like looking down at the stars. Like flying headlong._

_Two more hours to go._

_Maybe it'll feel more real once my feet touch the ground._

* * *

A/N: The Joey quote is from the Friends episode "The one with the breast milk".


	2. The one with the writing

**A/N: Thanks to the guest, who pointed out that spending time in Ethiopia while on maternity leave is not that normal :D I agree completely. (I actually know somebody who did that.) I really believe it's completely out of character for Jane, though. But she just had a baby, so give her the benefit of a doubt. No, for real, the reasons why she did it will hopefully become clearer as the story grows.**

**Now enjoy the next chapter and Ethiopia.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: The one with the writing**

.

After circling over Ethiopia's capital Addis Abeba for 40 minutes due to bad weather conditions, the plane literally drops onto the landing platform, sending a sharp pain up Jane's spine. Alban wakes with a start and lets out a discontent wail, making Jane doubt all her intentions on bringing this little creature into this foreign world, meaning the continent as well as earth.

Jane cannot even tell, whether the sun has risen or not, plus, she has lost track of the time altogether due to the different time zones they moved through. She wonders, whether Maura has noticed the way she bites her lip, or the doctor is simply back in protector mode even though she hasn't been awake for more than fifteen minutes herself. Whatever it is, her hand settles over Jane's, which is resting on her son's chest. The boy has already calmed, though he still looks upset and a little tousled, his dark curls pointing in every possible direction.

Luckily there's a passenger tunnel connecting the plane to the gate. Outside it is raining buckets and Jane has no jacket in her handbag. Maura had insisted on visiting Ethiopia during the rainy season due to the much more bearable climate, but Jane had no idea that the trip would actually require a lifeboat.

Stepping over the small gap from the aircraft to the tunnel, the handle of Alban's seat slips into the crook of her arm and the smell of eucalyptus seeps through. It has an immediate calming effect on her racing heart, so does the drum of the rain that tunes out every other noise in the tunnel.

Alban stares up at her, eyes wide and she is suddenly overwhelmed with the need to hold him with her own arms, close to her chest. She has not held him in over twelve hours. She wonders if he feels the same. And if so, why is he not asking for it? Why does he not cry for her? Is she really supposed to believe that his intense gaze is his way of asking her to be closer?

Jane looks ahead and finds another person staring at her, Maura, worry in the other woman's features. Right then she realizes she has stopped moving in the middle of the tunnel and tired passengers are mumbling this and that while stepping around her. The doctor is carrying both their handbags and beckons to her to finally step through the gate.

.

"So, how is the writing going?"

Jane looks up from her cereal that has freshly cut, very tasty papaya in it. Maura studies her expectantly, a big cup of coffee warming her hands. They had made it to the _Medecins Sans Frontieres_ compound and inside the guesthouse just before it had started hailing.

Addis was noisy, smog-filled, packed with people and with their glances. Rain had been pouring down steadily from the time they left the airport until they reached the inner city, mud running down roads and pavements. Not a single person would set foot on the streets, if that kind of weather hit Boston. Jane had been glad to at least have the cab's walls between herself and the water, between her and everything and everyone else that was outside, in fact. If only Maura's safety trick would work on her as well as on Alban.

Now there is this crackling sound of rain falling on the corrugated metal roof and Mulu, a very nice lady in her mid-fifties, who serves them breakfast has also started a fire in the chimney in the small lounge that connects to the even smaller dining room.

Jane can make out walls outside the window, almost blending into the steady and gray rainfall, but standing tall against the wind and the hail that only scatter the shards of glass someone has put on top, whether to keep people in or out Jane is not totally sure right now.

"I noticed you were writing during the flight", Maura tries again.

"On the plane? Why didn't you talk to me?" It sounds accusing, but the doctor chuckles in response, maybe a little guarded.

"I think it is great that you started right away."

"I was bored", Jane mutters, "and what's that supposed to mean anyway? Do _you_ keep a diary?" She gently pushes Alban's foot down from the tablecloth, but it keeps getting stuck there every time he moves in her lap.

"I take notes", Maura nods. "So, how does it feel?"

"First of all, I have no idea how to answer that, my hand certainly doesn't hurt holding a pen, and second, taking notes sounds very office-like, not like what you suggested I should do."

"When I came to Ethiopia for the first time I also kept a diary", Maura says and feigns being offended. "My mentor encouraged me."

"So you're my mentor now?"

The doctor chooses to ignore her. "Is it hard for you to express your thoughts?" she probes.

"It's hard for me to hear you say it like that." Timidly, Jane smiles despite the truth in her statement. She knows that Maura gets these weird moments. She always appreciated that to be part of their friendship and yet, she could not acknowledge that right now. It actually bothered her more and more often these days.

"No, not really", she admits after she accepts that her unidentified inner struggles will have to stay just that, unidentified, for now. "It's just a little strange. As if I should be talking to, or, in fact, _writing_ to someone else besides me."

"That's why people like to address it with 'dear diary', perfectly normal."

"Yeah, but... no. I don't wanna talk to the book."

"So don't. You can talk to anybody you like", Maura explains and sees Jane's comment coming, so she adds, "while writing."

Right then a man and a woman enter the dining room and introduce them as Mr. and Mrs. Boodenstine.

"You're up early", the gray haired lady says as they take their seats at the other end of the table. Her gaze is fixed on Alban.

"We wouldn't know", Jane counters a little too sharp and Maura looks at her, first in surprise and then reproachful.

"We just flew in this morning", Maura smiles politely back at the couple.

"Yeah, you know", Jane says and is already getting up, "I haven't slept all night. If you'll excuse me."

Maura stands, too. "Let me take Alban for you. He's fed, he has slept and you need your rest."

Jane glances back toward the Boodenstines. Something about them makes her feel uneasy. Though a couple of hours of sleep in an actual bed sound amazing. She could just blame the strange feeling on exhaustion.

"Let's get you to your room", Maura offers and Jane thanks her inwardly for pursuing her plan and feels belittled at the same time. When the door falls shut Maura continues to feed this feeling by asking "Are you alright?" and Jane gets frustrated that each and every of her moves and decisions get for questioned. When it comes to Alban helicopter Maura might be adorable, when it comes to Jane not so much.

It had started long before her son was born. Maybe as soon as Jane had told her about the pregnancy. Maura had been incredible throughout that time. Annoying, but mainly and most importantly she had been present. And that alone was so much more than what Jane could say about some other people. Maura had been amazing, no doubt. Jane just could not figure out what had made her so much more vulnerable in the doctor's eyes.

She fights the urge to slump down onto the bed immediately. She does not want to feed Maura's theories of her weakness. And yet, if anybody told her he or she was not feeling a little weak after being awake for 27 hours straight, she would laugh or send the person over to narcotics. As she finally sits a cockroach crawls out from under the bed and disappears into the bathroom. She wonders if Maura has seen it too and why none of them comments on it. Does the change of the continent really make it less disgusting?

Maura reaches for Alban, who squeaks out a laugh. She does not repeat her question or comment on the lack of Jane's answer. Jane hates her a little less. The little boy in Maura's arms smiles back at her. They both do. They look familiar and it strikes Jane that nothing else really does since she had stepped out of that plane.

They look like family and it makes her feel safe and warm.

"We'll leave tomorrow at five AM", Maura states bluntly.

"Already? Wouldn't it be better to stay here for a bit?" Jane asks quietly, wanting not to risk any turmoil anymore, inside or outside.

"It'll be much better when we get to the west", Maura clarifies. "The weather will be nicer, the countryside as well. You will like it. I promise." Jane cannot help but grunt at the thought of continuous sitting and traveling.

"Let's give your Mama the chance to catch some sleep, shall we?" Maura whispers to Alban and already turns to leave.

"How!? The prayer shouter just started shouting", Jane calls after her.

"It's called a muezzin", Maura replies without looking back. "And they _sing_."

"No, they don't", Jane grins, but then the door closes and she can finally crawl under the covers. Nobody will care that she has not changed clothes in 27 hours either.


	3. The one with Barry

**Chapter 3: The one with Barry**

**.**

**_Nekemte, Saturday 5th of September 2015_**

_Frost,_

_._

_god, this isn't working for me._

_._

_._

_Barry,_

_I can hear you teasing me, cause I'm actually doing this. Well, keep 'em coming, it's not gonna get much weirder._

_We arrived in a town called Nekemte an hour ago. There's no power nor running water in our hotel. I feel like Meryl Streep when I look at the candlelight through my mosquito net. Only the sheets are clammy and the air is thick with moisture. Out of Africa didn't look that cold either. But Maura has given me a couple of gabis (traditional white cotton blankets). Nothing gets through those, it's amazing._

_Alban is fast asleep, lying next to me, wrapped in a gabi himself. He's been so good. Didn't complain for the whole ride. Although, Hannes also made sure we'd take a break at least every two hours. Plus, he stopped at all the right places. _

_I had my first traditional coffee ceremony next to the road (though I refused to drink it with rancid butter and salt, used sugar instead cause the taste is good but also has a strong peatiness to it), after that we stopped for breakfast – scrambled eggs with toast, incredibly well done, too, at the next stop he ordered us avocado juice mixed with some papaya and yoghurt, then a traditional lunch, and coffee again... oh! and some grilled corn, which they sold next to the road as well and we could snack on it in the car._

_Hannes Kruus, an old friend of Maura's, is a carpenter from Sweden, one of the last missionaries in western Ethiopia, who has been living over here since he was seventeen. You'd never guess his age – judging by his appearance, his... awareness and fitness he might be as old as me, but he's 57!_

_I like him. His intern Simon from Australia and he arrived in Addis yesterday late afternoon to pick us up and this morning around 5:30 we started our trip westward._

_Back in Addis you couldn't really see anything, literally, due to the smog, the rain and mist, the hundreds of white and blue mini buses jamming the streets and blocking your window, or because of the high-risers that get conjured up out of nothing; heck, they're even building a subway, which seems to be responsible for most of the bad traffic nowadays. _

_Those construction sights work with uneven long branches that serve as scaffolds. They look incredibly dangerous and unsteady and the workers gotta climb from branch to branch in order to reach the spot where they want to continue painting, or setting in windows, etc. And everything they need to fulfill their tasks like buckets full of paint or bricks and stuff is also balanced and transported up that way. The scaffolds let you guess how much one life is worth and how quickly it can be replaced, which is a comment Maura made on that. And she kept telling her horror stories all day. _

_The last time she came here was in 2007. Back then the Ethiopians celebrated the year 2000, because the Coptic calender apparently differs from ours by seven years. They had prepared extensively for their celebration of the millennium (and unfortunately New Year's falls on the date of September 11th for them!). Therefore the world press had their eyes on Ethiopia. Maura thinks, they must have felt like eminently respectable people were coming to visit, even though they would only be watching from their couches in front of a TV. So the government decided to clean the city. Not one beggar were to be allowed to come up to a car at a red light as soon as September started._

_I actually didn't see any beggars around the traffic lights either, but now, seven years later, that's due to a new law as Hannes explained. Drivers are not supposed to give money to beggars anymore. It's supposed to reduce automobile accidents. _

_In 2007 it had been different – and it had been handled terribly. People got loaded into trucks and deposited outside of town. Then their tents and what little they had got burned and if they actually managed to make their way back to the city – and only few did – then they would have had nothing to return to. Most of them were women and children who already had no support._

_At least the press got wind of it and captioned it as awful, too. Not the impression Ethiopia wanted to make. I'm not really sure why Maura felt it'd be okay to dump that story as a first impression on me, though. _

_Maybe she's trying out some reversed psychology thing and believes the less I like Addis the more I will like the town we're going to. Cause she sure seems to like it and I get if that's important to her. Well, knowing Maura, she probably just couldn't stop herself from sharing those stories and didn't think of it like that. And it's alright, I can handle that. Besides, my first impression had already been gray rain, gray buildings, muddy roads – she couldn't really spoil it._

_The rain had stopped sometime during the night (at last!) and it was freezing cold outside. Four Ethiopians and a TV waited in front of the land rover, eager to get to the west as well. They exchanged some words in afaan Oromo, the local language of the western Ethiopians which Hannes speaks fluently, and then they climbed between our luggage into the rear. _

_I still feel bad about using up the backseat by ourselves. And Maura's comment that they wouldn't wanna have it any different since it is allegedly perceived as disrespectful to have visitors sit in the back of the car, didn't make it any better. How many countries are out there that still need a Rose to stubbornly sit in the front!?_

_It was amazing to see the metropolis Addis wake up. I had to think back to early hours in Boston. How many tipsy ladies and barfing guys have I seen whenever I got up that early to go for a run... never pretty. Here, I saw donkeys or people carrying firewood all along the road. Others, wrapped in light-colored gabis, maybe on their way to work. Slowly we found our way around goats, sheep and dogs into the misty countryside._

_But once we left the caldera of the volcano and the sun came through to scare the fog off - it was like you could see e-v-e-r-y-thing! I felt so good... so right. Despite the cold. There was nothing – nothing!– I had to do but watch. And I'm telling you: Who needs a Grand Canyon? It was breathtaking. Hundreds of shades of green, beautiful valleys lined by powerful mountains, effervescing rivers that were recharged with lots and lots of rainwater and huge fields of corn and something I don't know._

_Hannes must've seen it on my face, he'd stop the car whenever my hand twitched and let me get out to take a picture. (After the first couple of stops I got over the embarrassing sensation that the Ethiopians in the back must think I'm crazy, taking pictures of nothing but landscape from all directions. )_

_Frankie got me this wonderful Leica as a gift to the small farewell party Maura and Ma had thrown as a surprise for me. He had me fight tears. She's that pretty. I love the clicking sound she makes and I love that after the clicking something mechanical is actually set into motion inside. And I love that I cannot look at the picture right away. It's like wrapping a present and one day when I'll unwrap it, it will still be a surprise._

_Hang on a sec..._

_I just had to mail this to Frankie. (They don't have post offices in the west, but you can get a Wifi connection almost anywhere – can you believe that?) And while I had my phone out I also had to send a pic of Alban to my Ma. He's so adorable when he sleeps. Well, he's adorable all the time, but a sleeping child is something... else. I remember that one time you've warned a guy in the BPD cafeteria that you would arrest him for "baby waking". I love you for that._

_You know, the way Alban's hair looks right now he looks a little - yeah, he looks a little like you when you were a boy. _

_I can't believe it's been just over a year since we talked. One year has passed since you died. So much has happened, but in contrast to losing you... one year suddenly seems short. I just realized how much I expect of people whose sorrow "already" dates back one year._

_I know, I should believe that where you are now you are able to see and know about the things we do, but... it just doesn't feel like it. It feels like you're missing out on... on everything, really._

_I mean, I'm in Ethiopia now. (!) Yeah, what was I thinking? _

_Honestly. I think, I didn't really get what this would mean, even that I'd really be doing this, until I stepped on that plane. I have no idea why I came here. I don't know if Maura is enough of a reason. How come I'm so numb to decisions as big as this?_

_._

_I never got the chance to tell you that I'm pregnant. You were already on vacation and... you never came back from that._

_I gave him your name, you know. This feels strangely like a confession. I had a son and I named him Alban Barry. My great-grandfather's name was Alban. He died in Italy before I was even born, but Ma loved him. I grew up with the stories of the wonderful person he must have been._

_Do you think it's weird to give a kid the names of deceased people? Maura tells me that it is quite common in Ethiopia. People even name their child something that translates "taking the place of a lost one". I don't want Alban to have that hanging over him._

_Take for example the Boodenstines (a couple Maura and I met at breakfast yesterday). Thank god, I didn't have to talk to them, but of course Maura had to make "small" talk. (Some people really don't know what small means.) They had been working for MSF 25 years ago and had a baby that got really sick. They left Ethiopia in a hurry to get better medical care, shortly thereafter, their child died. Now they've come back for the first time since then. To get closure, I guess. Maura says they have to make peace with this country._

_You should've seen the way she studied me when she told me. I hate it when she feels like she has to hold something back as if I wouldn't worry as long as I don't know. I am worried, but I wouldn't have come here if she hadn't been convincing in the first place. And I really don't think she tried to trick me into going, you know, so why not be honest?_

_Anyway, I wanted to say that it crept me out the way Mrs. Boodenstine looked at Alban. You could feel her guilt even without knowing the story. I wouldn't want her to hold him, I didn't even want her to look at him like that._

_But now I feel bad about feeling that way. After all, I'm the one who gave my son the names of two dead people. I guess at the time it didn't feel like that. I'm not sure. The day of his birth is kind of hazy to me. That's probably normal, right? Anyway, I don't wanna dig into that._

_._

_On your birthday Maura and I left a candle burning all day, we bought flowers and at a yard sale an old ceramic vase that must've been blue in another life, we cooked your favorite food and went for a walk in the afternoon sun. You would have liked it._

_Often I think it's gonna get better... it's gonna be _**right**_ again. One day. But some things can't get better: You're not coming back, not ever. You're never gonna meet Alban, never gonna talk to me again, or laugh with me. We'll never share a desk again, you'll never mock me the way only you did anymore, you'll send no more postcards, letting me know that you're thinking of me, too. We won't spend time together ever again._

_._

_There's something I've been meaning to tell you. I missed you, too, when you were in San Diego. Still do._

_Yours,_

_Jane_


	4. The one where Jane faints

**Chapter 4: The one where Jane faints**

.

The brand-new asphalt road ends 35 miles before their final destination. Simon lets Jane have the front seat, because she is the only one who has not been to this part of the country and he promises a nice view. She takes his place gratefully. As she tries to buckle in the belt, she has to turn it around on itself before it fits into its lock. She unlocks it again and tries once more, double checking if she had made a mistake.

"Something's wrong with this." The pointless statement escapes her lips before she can think it through and she has to laugh hard when Hannes dryly replies: "Different is not necessarily wrong." To Jane it seems like the exact amount of humor and information she requires.

From then on they slide through knee deep mud or jolt over head sized gravel. Hannes instructs Maura to put an extra _gabi_ into the infant car seat to cushion the bumps in the road for Alban. However, Hannes seems to be able to read the road. There is not one chuckhole that takes him by surprise.

The landscape grows more and more beautiful with every mile they put behind them. Deep green and wide plains and canyons have already changed into narrow valleys and thick jungle. The Toyota climbs one more hill before they will reach town and when they look down onto Challiya Hannes says: "Here we are. This is where you're gonna stay the next three months."

It is a small town not too far from the Sudanese boarder. Jane feels like she can see the whole world from up here and she suddenly has no idea what _here_ really means. Maura unconsciously bounces up and down in excitement. It makes Jane smile and alleviates the insecurity that is eating at her.

Half an hour later the gates to the carpenter and reforestation school of Challiya are opened for them by a guard. He has got a rifle hanging from his shoulder and taps his cap to greet Hannes. The car wobbles down a cobblestone path and comes to a halt in the middle of three large brick buildings, an office, a wood-workshop and a lumber mill. Even though the buildings are not as tall Jane is reminded strangely of Harvard University. She stumbles out of the car door, limbs stiff from sitting two days straight for over 300 miles, aware of the many eyes that follow her every move.

Some of the younger people point at her rubber boots. It has been the topic of many conversations at every stop they have made. Apparently it is fine that Hannes wears them, but on a woman it makes everyone giggle. Jane fights the urge to roll her eyes and turns around to open the back door of the car and unclasp Alban's belt and pulls him out of his seat and against her chest.

He can serve as her shield. Too many people have gathered at the compound's large yard and Maura lets herself be welcomed by each and every one of them, exchanging endless Oromo greeting phrases. The women press their cheek to hers, hugging her left, right, left in the traditional manner, the men do the same only by bumping shoulders.

Jane observes her friend, both in awe and terror. She knows Maura is capable of putting courteousness and her curiosity and thirst for new things ahead of almost anything, but then again Jane has never seen the medical examiner this open and at ease with strangers. Not all of them can possibly be old friends of hers, can they?

Jane tries her best to look clumsy with the baby in her arms so she only has to shake a few hands. She cannot keep even one of their names.

She spots Hannes unlocking a wooden door in the office building, right behind the parked Land Rover. He waves at her and she follows him inside gratefully. They walk silently through a small living room and out another door onto a patio. It is private and calm and exactly what she needs.

At the far end she finds fresh tea and sugar on a coffee table surrounded by four armchairs. Jane slumps into one of them and turns Alban around so he, too, can look at the banana plants that grow all along the fence behind the small garden which encircles the patio. In one corner stands a traditional circular hut, smoke and the smell of roasted coffee beans streaming out of its door.

"Here we can stay, right buddy?" Jane mumbles.

.

The next day they get up at 05:30 AM as if for the sake of making a habit out of it. There will be a service at six o'clock to welcome the beginning of the last month of the Ethiopian year. It is a 13th month that contains all the remaining days of the year, since the other 12 always count exactly 30 days, and it will end with the celebration of the New year.

Maura insisted they go together since it would be disrespectful to not show up on their first day in town.

When the doctor knocks on Jane's door for the third time to get her out of bed, the detective has convinced herself that Maura makes this kind of stuff up just to keep her from settling in.

"Am up", Jane slurs and turns toward Alban, who is yawning big, but has yet to open his eyes.

"I feel ya, little guy", Jane rasps, her throat aching. She has not slept well at all with freezing cold air seeping through the wooden framed windows and a rooster that had been, obviously by some sort of mistake or maybe a jet lag comparable to hers, shouting out his morning greetings since three o'clock and in a volume that made Jane check twice if he might actually be standing on the nightstand next to her bed.

"The power is out, Jane", Maura's voice comes through the door. "I've put a banana and bread rolls for you on the coffee table in the living room."

"Thank you, Maura", Jane says through gritted teeth and feels like she is 15 again.

The sun will not rise before 07:00 AM, so they make their way through the dark with a flashlight, trying not to slip on greasy cobblestones. The fervent bark of a dog that comes up behind them makes Jane clutch Alban a little too hard to her chest. The baby lets out an unfamiliar appalled cry. Dogs are different in Ethiopia. They all look like dingoes and are either very shy or very aggressive.

But Maura turns around quickly and waves a fist high above her head, shouting at the dog to stay away. Jane is stunned as the barker tugs his tail between his legs, whimpers and retreats backwards.

They get to church fifteen minutes late, but so do many people, and try to squeeze into one of the long wooden benches. Hannes' intern Simon is already there and Jane comes to sit next to him, wondering shortly whether the missionary would actually be coming to church as well. A strange smell invades her nostrils, one she cannot place, but had noticed during their car ride once before.

A choir accompanied by a synthesizer is blaring one song after another through the large hall that is filled mercilessly by huddled figures. Some disturbing scenes are playing out. A man who seems to have violent convulsions bumps his head into the wall twice before he does a surprisingly elegant cartwheel, and a couple of women crawl down the aisle on their knees all the way up the stairs until they reach the altar, put down some money and crawl back to their seats. Between each song different people get up and shout angry sounding prayers into the microphone that blasts with every hollered _Amen_.

"Do they actually sing different songs or is it always the same?" Jane asks Simon over the seemingly endless repetition of the already familiar rhythms and melodies.

"They sing different songs but it all sounds the same", the young man smirks.

It seems abrupt when the music finally stops and a small commotion follows. The pastor comes to stand in front of the crowd and at the same time another man squeezes himself next to Maura. Jane has to shift to sit almost sideways like everybody else does, so more people can fit on the bench. Alban's hand gets caught in her hair and she hisses at the momentarily sharp pain. It earns her a gentle smile from a woman in front of her, which somehow unnerves Jane.

She turns Alban until his back rests in the crook of her arm and tries to concentrate on him. The little boy giggles when he finds his mother's eyes. It seems to have the power of untangling her nerves.

The man that joined them starts to translate the sermon that sweeps over them from the speakers in metallic waves. Jane tries to concentrate on his hushed voice, but she feels her eyes getting heavy, growing more and more tired with every passing second.

She realizes what is happening when it is almost too late.

"Maura, take the baby", she commands and a second later everything changes.

_Suddenly she is standing in the middle of the Fitzgerald Highway in Boston. Trucks and buses are speeding by, filling her ears with loud engine noise. The colors are too bright and move in on her with an alarming pace. She has to close her eyes against them._

When she opens them again, she is looking into the face of an Ethiopian. She has no idea what the man is doing in Boston with her, cannot recall ever seeing his face. When she moves her head, more Africans come into view, all staring back at her blatantly. Then she finally spots Maura, her voice suddenly piercing Jane, but she cannot make out the meaning of the words.

A wave of nausea hits her, cold sweat forms on her forehead. Maura's hand slips into Jane's, which gives her the confidence to close her eyes again. She will be taken care of.

Slowly everything comes back to her and she can place the rest of her body. They have laid her down between the benches (or had she slipped to the ground?). Her legs are bent and her head rests in two palms, the warmth radiating into her scalp. The pastor is still telling his stories.

After a while Maura's voice starts to make sense.

"You're alright.

Don't be afraid.

It is a common reaction.

You're not accustomed to the altitude of this area.

You'll feel better soon."

And she does. Simon, who is holding Alban, offers to take Jane home. Maura helps her to stand and looks at her worried and maybe a little disappointed. Right then, Jane does not care. All she wants is to get out of the church, away from the stares.

As soon as she steps into the still dark morning she says: "Hannes told me to come to you, if I had questions about my mobile's internet connection." She refuses to give the young man time to address the fact that she has just fainted.

He gets it.

"Yeah, sure. Bring it to me whenever you want. There hasn't been a single one I wasn't able to get working. It's a little tricky here in Challiya, but possible."

He hands Alban to her and Jane accepts him gratefully. She kisses her son's forehead and suddenly feels like she needs to apologize to him for losing consciousness while he was in her arms.

Maybe she has failed him. If only for a couple of minutes.


	5. The one where loss vs gain

**Chapter 5: The one where loss vs gain**

**.**

**_Challiya, Monday 7th of September 2015  
or 1st of the 13th month 2008 in Ethiopia_**_(which for sure is the weirdest date my diary will ever contain)_

_Hey Barry,_

_the sun is out for once and warms the concrete of Hannes' patio (who is nowhere around, Simon says he's up and working at 5 AM every day). _

_Tayanne, Hannes' cook, a young and pretty woman, is sorting grains of wheat in front of the circular hut that is her kitchen. She doesn't speak English, so the silence between us is not uncomfortable. This is my favorite spot so far._

_Though, our guesthouse is also quite nice. There's a wild garden leading down from the cobblestone road and around our house, which therefore lies kind of hidden in banana plants and all different kinds of bushes and flowers as well as an old hen-coop. The house has a large living room, a bathroom and two bedrooms, all of which hold ordinary furniture._

_The sun had barely risen when Simon and I came back from church, which btw has been kind of disturbing. Here I was thinking even the Catholics stopped condemning people for whatever reasons, but in the Mekane Yesus Church of Challiya, which should mean 'where Jesus lives', women were scraping up their knees on their way to the altar, very likely to seek redemption._

_Oh, and they've got a white Jesus hanging over their sanctuary – which is typical, the white missionaries didn't imagine their Lord in any other way when they brought their point of view to West Ethiopia a hundred years ago – but it looks just wrong. Maybe that's a good enough excuse to break into a church one night. Not to take something, but to bring some dark paint._

_Tayanne had already prepared breakfast for us, the bread she bakes was still warm. We had it with scrambled eggs and jelly (not at the same time, obviously). The food tastes surprisingly well – though I keep saying that about everything, even tofu, since I've started breastfeeding. _

_For lunch and dinner it's always budena with wot, which is a big sourdough flat cake and different kinds of (very hot!) sauces and vegetables. We eat with our fingers, all from the same plate and you have to (without fail!) use the right hand, cause your left is meant for... you know, things that need to be done when you're elsewhere._

_I can't believe Maura isn't more repelled by the fact that we're all sticking our fingers in the same food. Hannes' hands for instance always look dirty, dark grease carved into the deeper lines of his palms and all around his nails. The weird thing is it kind of looks... uhm... so very characteristic and therefore it's not revolting at all. It's like his life is engraved in his hands and that's kind of beautiful._

_Maura even allows me one cup of coffee a day by now. Maybe she simply can't stand my mood otherwise. When did that woman get so... involved in everything I do, huh? I know, it's a rhetorical question, but did you always see that coming? The never-ending counseling, the repetitive calling everything I do (and don't do for that matter) into question..._

_I know, it's not like I didn't ask her or didn't want her to, but... something doesn't feel right. Something feels just off._

_Sorry, I somehow don't really wanna talk about her. it. whatever._

_Simon took off with my mobile phone a couple of minutes ago, I don't seem to get a connection here. I'm so glad it was him who took me back to the compound. He doesn't look at me funny or comments my inability to adjust. I mean, sure, I was attuned to some sort of culture clash, I just didn't expect it to happen so soon._

_They'll probably call me the "fainting rubber boots lady" for the rest of my stay. Who can blame them? I'm like the brick buildings on this compound – I don't fit here._

_Plus, there's nobody else who's got some "adjusting" to do – so I can't really compare myself to anyone. Yeah, you know, I feel like I can't really share any of this, since everyone around me is an old African stager already. Even Simon, who's probably not even a day over 25, knows his way around better. I guess that shouldn't really surprise me. And like I said: He's a nice and decent guy._

_He actually reminded me of you this morning. I mean, he's very tall, and blond, and muscular – so not like that :) – but the way he didn't stare too long, the way he somehow knew what I needed..._

_Right there on the stairs to the church I had an idea of what I lost in you, Barry,_

_and I also kind of understood that I might be able to find it again and again,_

_cause what you left me helps me see and hear and feel things you made me see and hear and feel._

_Does that make sense to you?_

_._

_At times I hated that life continued. That the people in my building or at the grocery store down the street were unaware of this tragedy that had come and destroyed so much without caring about the consequences. I figured, if death doesn't interrupt us in our routines and everything, what does?_

_Now, for the first time, I don't want that kind of interruption anymore – I want to see things unfolding again._

_._

_I held your eulogy, you know. (You do know, don't you?) I was glad I could do that for you, for your family,_

_for me._

_I miss you with all my heart and I cannot compensate that we're never gonna talk again. Nothing ever felt like that. I never lost someone like that. _

_I actually feel as if I've taken some steps back – I mean, I thought I managed to leave a lot of this hurt behind me already. But right now your death seems a lot more absurd than it had been. After all I can write to you, I can picture you very clearly, I can remember and still hear your voice and I even feel like I still can find things out about you. _

_How can you not exist?_

_._

_I've seen death. A lot. We've lost Susie a couple of months back as well. People can say what they want, but it wasn't her time either._

_I'm not a person that goes through life without grazing the topic, but with you..._

_Your sudden death was hard on a lot of people; you were loved very much, my friend. What people said about you and did for your funeral had been beautiful in all its devastating reality. And they've been incredibly supportive towards me as well. Tommy for instance gave me this wonderful card... it had some lyrics on it that accompany me ever since:_

_Death is at your doorstep_

_And it will steal your innocence_

_But it will not steal your substance_

_And you are not alone in this_

_You are not alone in this_

_As brothers we will stand_

_And we'll hold your hand..._

_._

_Ma had told me deep hurt is a sign of stark contiguousness and a strong bond. While that makes sense to me it also makes me wish we hadn't been that close. It somehow even makes me wish not to be close to anyone... anymore._

_And yet I hope you somehow stay close, even now._

_I hope, you can be part of anything you don't want to miss._

_And I even wish I could share you, could make other people feel your friendship, your love, so what I lost becomes evident and they will know how it feels to lose you, too._

_._

_But what we had is exclusively for you and me._

_How is that possible?_

_._

* * *

_A/N: The lyrics are from Mumford and Sons, Timshel._


	6. The one with the fight

**Chapter 6: The one with the fight**

.

When Jane comes back to the guesthouse she shares with Maura, the other woman is already there. She gets up from where she was reading on the couch and looks at Jane, who stands rooted to the spot in the doorway, expectantly.

"How are you feeling?" Maura asks softly.

"My throat's a little sore, but I'm okay", Jane tries to answer truthfully and moves to lower her sleeping son into one of the armchairs in the living room.

"I haven't had time to eat this morning, only fed Alban", she waves to the coffee table where the banana and the bread roll Maura had put out for her this morning lie untouched. "And then that smell at church, I guess, I wasn't breathing properly."

"It's the butter they put in their hair to make it look more straight and shiny", Maura explains and Jane cannot help but grimace.

"You really should take better care of yourself", Maura huffs, at first encouraged by Jane's seemingly light mood, but then she looks like she regrets the statement. Jane stares at her for a long time before she suddenly picks the baby up again and disappears into her room.

A second later she comes back without him and notices the surprised look on her friend's face, which only fuels the point she is about to make. Her voice is sharp when she speaks: "I guess, you're the know-it-all here, Maura, but I don't need you to patronize me."

"Excuse me?" Maura gasps, genuinely offended.

"I feel like I don't really know you anymore. It's like with Ian all over again, like something you've never shared. Nonstop hugging, attending services, fighting dogs – what is that!?"

The breath Maura takes is long and shaky. Jane cannot tell whether the medical examiner is angry or afraid or something completely else. She cannot stand the silence that tries to stretch between them, so she starts pacing. Her eyes fall on the book Maura has been reading and it hits her like ice when she realizes it is a parent's guide. That sends her over the edge, something inside of her snapping.

"So you're not only an expert on Ethiopia, but you're preparing to tell me where I mess up with my kid as well!?"

Maura looks so sad, it makes her insides churn, but she will not allow it to bring her down.

Not now.

"You're not gonna finish this fight, Maura?" She knows she sounds like she is glad that she has the power to render Maura speechless, but the other woman is her own person and Jane finds it is about time that Maura stands up for herself and does not let people walk all over her anymore.

"Nothing, Maura? Did I catch you off guard?" At this point Jane's words are meant to hurt. The knowledge of that still mortifies her, despite the excuses she tries to give her outburst.

"No, you didn't", Maura breathes, taking in Jane's slumped shoulders. "I was expecting this. Just not so soon." Jane barely registers that she has had the same thought and written it down in a letter to Barry just a couple of hours back.

"What!?" She straightens, the fury is back. "How- Why?"

"I knew you were bottling up too much frustration and-"

"No, Maura! _Why_ don't you tell me? When did you stop blurting out your thoughts, huh? If you have something to say to me, say it for god's sake! Don't treat me like a bomb that goes off eventually. Stop walking around on eggshells like I'm gonna jump you!"

Maura narrows her eyes, her gaze hardening as if she wants to tell Jane that the detective has just made a self fulfilling prophecy out of her own statement.

"Well", Maura starts, her voice firm and a little huffy, "you've also changed. I believe, I don't feel like I can share all of my concerns with you anymore, because I am not sure that you are capable of handling those."

"What?" Jane spits. It is an echo of the one word that reverberates loudly through her brain. She can tell that Maura is willing herself not to be intimidated.

"I can see you struggling with the things we see and do here", the doctor tries to explain, "but I don't see you cope. No sarcastic comment, no expression of anger... until now, but then again just toward me..." Her sentence lingers in the air, for a brief moment unfinished. "For a while now I feel like all you do is push people away", Maura adds and blushes.

Jane cannot hide the hurt the confession brings down on her. She sways between defeat and defiance. After a while she settles for the latter and asks incredulously: "You equate following you to Ethiopia with pushing you away?"

However, she does not want to hear an answer. For a split second she wishes she could storm off, just leave the house for as long as she wants, but then she remembers that her son is sleeping in the other room and now is not the time to ask Maura to look after him.

So she just shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head, before she leaves Maura to herself and shuts the door to her bedroom behind her.

.

Simon comes back just before lunch, having fixed the connection on Jane's mobile phone. Not even ten minutes after Jane has texted her Ma the number, the land-line in the carpenter school's office, from which one can only take calls, not make them, rings.

A man comes to Maura's and Jane's guesthouse, informing the detective that "Unjella Reecouly" is calling for her. Jane automatically hands Alban over to Maura and when the other woman takes the baby as a matter of course, she feels like it is a load off her mind. She could not bear the thought of Maura being halting toward Alban because of their earlier fight.

She follows the office worker down to the main building of the school and moments later is met with her Ma's voice, two octaves higher due to the overwhelming excitement the woman must feel.

"_I'm talking to Africa!"_, Angela shouts into the phone and Jane has to roll her eyes despite the grin her mother's enthusiasm brings to her lips.

Jane tells her how she already misses warm showers, skips over the part where she fainted in church and, while Angela is waiting patiently, she also counts the insect bites on her left leg just to give her mother something inane to worry about and then complains about Maura's secret super power of not getting bitten.

They sigh in unison, because they both know it is not the whole truth, and then Angela says:

"_Put Alban on the phone."_

"Ma, he's still not speaking", Jane chuckles.

"_Don't be silly, I know that. I wanna sing to him so he doesn't forget my voice."_

Jane needs a second to collect herself before she can answer: "That's really sweet, Ma." Somehow she caves then, even though she is in an office packed with people, day laborers entering steadily to collect their paychecks.

"I had a fight with Maura", she admits and turns her chair to the wall to give herself the illusion of privacy. Apparently Angela is waiting to hear more, so Jane adds: "She says I've been pushing people away."

.

At nightfall, seven o'clock sharp, Jane enters Hannes' living room and finds Maura sitting on the couch, her feet are supported by a small stool and Alban is resting against her knees, facing the woman holding him. Simon is setting the dining table around Hannes, who is tinkering with a radio that looks like it might be from ancient times. There is a bible next to Hannes' plate and Jane shortly wonders who might have been reading in it.

"I think it's nice that she calls you", Maura says unbidden, probably reading some bemused expression off of Jane's face and at the same time trying to keep any tension between them at bay.

"She's calling for Alban", Jane answers, trying to sidestep the conversation.

"That's not true and you know it."

"Well, she must be worried, it's been a week", Jane gives in. The way Maura's head shoots up makes her think she has said the wrong thing.

"It hasn't been a week, Jane", Maura states, concern written all over her face. "It's only been three days."

"Three days!?" Jane asks incredulously and earns a chuckle from Simon.

"If you wanna live long, you gotta come here", Hannes confirms without lifting his eyes from his task. At that Jane lets herself fall onto the couch, feeling defeated.

"When did you come to Ethiopia for the first time?" She asks her friend after a while, suddenly painfully aware of how little she knows of something that must have had such an impact on Maura. And, after the talk with her mother, even more conscious about how it is her place to ask Maura about the things she wants to learn about her.

"I was 22", Maura begins. "I had already finished my basic medical education and wanted to explore my options, you know, see if I could handle..." She gazes around the room, a little flustered.

"People?" Jane fills in. Her heart warms when Maura nods and smiles slightly, still a little embarrassed.

"It felt like an appropriate challenge", Maura continues. "I thought, I would only need enough distance from my own life to see if things would still trouble me as much when I was around patients. My parents were very fond of the idea, they thought it would add perfectly to my skills-"

"Of course they did", Jane adds, but the medical examiner tries not to let herself be irritated.

"- and with my father's connections I got the chance to do an internship at the MSF hospital in Challiya." The doctor spreads out her hands at the living room as if to prove her point. Jane has an idea about what Maura means by _things_ that troubled her and yet a craving is awakened. She longs to know more, needs to probe deeper. At second thought, she finds herself too afraid of the unknown.

"And that's when you guys met?" She asks instead. The gentle gazes Hannes gives her friend do not go unnoticed and she wonders briefly what kind of bond those two actually share.

"Not right away, but yes", Maura answers jauntily. "My mentor Christina, a midwife at the hospital, unexpectedly left two days after I got here. She had to go back to the States for her father's funeral."

"That must have been hard for you", Jane contemplates.

"A little, yes. Without her it was like being thrown in at the deep end." And then Maura smiles at the older man sitting close to her. "Fortunately Hannes took me under his wing."

"Ah", Hannes laughs and sounds slightly reprehensive at the same time. "You weren't in need of that, Maura."

"So, how long did it take _your_ parents to call _you_?"

The way Maura looks at her tells Jane she has hit the nail on the head. She does not really feel sorry for asking, but for the way it had sounded. Like something very obvious to ask. They are interrupted by Tayanne, who brings in a bowl that contains the _wot_ and starts distributing the red sauce and beans in small puddles all around the large gray flat cake that lies on an equally big and round plate in the middle of the table.

Hannes puts the radio and his tools aside and says "Nyachu waya", and even though Jane still does not know what that translates to, she knows it is Hannes' way of asking them to start eating. After taking a seat at the table she reaches for one of the extra rolls of _budena_, when a cockroach climbs out from under the flat cake.

In the blink of an eye, Hannes has reached for the nearby book and smashes the nasty little bugger until it is juice.

"You've just killed a cockroach with the Holy Bible."

"I know, but God would understand."


	7. The one with Jane's questions

**Chapter 7: The one with Jane's questions**

**.**

**_Challiya, Wednesday 9th of September 2014_**

_Hey Barry,_

_So, only one and a half days have passed since my last entry and if I'd compare what I did during that time to my BPD schedule it would seem ridiculous, but it feels as if I've been pulling a double shift – each day!_

_In addition to that I'm going to bed around EIGHT PM, when the sun and the electricity are gone (they turn off the generator at night). Except for the couple of times Alban wakes me during the night to be fed, I'm sleeping ten to eleven hours right now. _

_Maura says, it's very healthy, well, of course she would think so. She says, we'd all get more of the rest we're in need for, if it wouldn't be for the sleep procrastination a modern society brings. I seem to be incapable of not listening to her rambling._

_I just came back from the market – Wednesday is market day. You should've seen how big Alban's eyes got! I had him in TJ's old baby carrier around my front and he seemed really impressed by all the vivid colors. One of the carpenters accompanied us, which is good, cause otherwise we'd get overrun by children, I guess. His name's Bacha, he's just finished the carpenter school program last year and he is the skinniest person I've ever seen and has the widest smile._

_There are many small kids, the ones that aren't in school yet, on the street and roaming the market while their parents sell vegetables, fruits, spices, pottery and soft goods as well as donkeys, goats, sheep and cattle. Whenever they can, they'll slip their tiny, sweaty and sugar-cane-sticky hands into yours and look up at you with the cheekiest grin. It's adorable, even though they're mainly looking for some Birr, Ethiopian money._

_They call us farenji. (Not fainting rubber boots!) Bacha says, it means white, beautiful and foreigner. They've never met a white person, who wasn't rich in comparison to them._

_I really enjoyed Bacha's company. We joked a lot (his name actually translates "joker") – up to now I found it difficult to get on the same level of humor with someone from this foreign culture. Last night we played cards and when it'd be his turn and his hand wasn't good, he'd say: "What to doooo? Where to goooo? We're surrounded!" (though with his accent it sounded like "Where's around it?") Thinking about that still cracks me up. _

_God, sorry, I've probably got sunstroke._

_Uhm, I was getting to a point: It's a little weird, but I keep finding bits and pieces of you in other people lately. Maybe it's simply, cause I think of you a lot more than I used to over the last couple of months._

_It's not like it doesn't sting at all, but at the same time it's like you gave me this gift and if I don't forget about or ignore it, I will discover more and more of it and it will keep on growing._

_._

_Remember how I said that I wished your absence would be more obvious to people? Now it's the complete opposite with Ca- Alban's father. How come it's apparent to everyone that he's not present!? It drives me crazy._

_Do you think in some way it's apparent to Alban as well?_

_I worry about him. I wonder whether I confront him with too many strange things. Does him not complaining really mean that he takes everything very well, that he's up to every challenge? Or does he simply not know how to tell me that he'd like to feel more... protected?_

_You know, you're mom felt like she should've protected you more. From life in general, I guess. It wasn't rational, but when she told me it felt very true._

_I helped her clear out your apartment. It felt strange, like going through very intimate things without asking. On several occasions it overwhelmed your mother, disarmed her. How does one decide what to keep and what to shed of a person they hold dear, of one's own son?_

_Alban doesn't really own stuff, yet, and most of his things came from TJ anyway. But if he'd ever..._

_sorry, I can't even bring myself to write that down. I suppose, I'd keep every romper suit, every shirt, every little sock, wouldn't I? Is it too hard or unhealthy to hold on to something like that?_

_Camille gave me some of your photos, including the ones we showed at your funeral. I've put them on my fridge and maybe it was hard to see them all the time at first, but I guess I got used to them. And I like that, cause in that way it's like you and the memories I've got of you are some ordinary part of my life, a part that doesn't only hurt._

_We also found your box of presents, some small things like a dog whistle, I suppose it was for Korsak, and a framed picture of your action doll for Frankie (nicely done, Barry! the original one found a good place, too btw), but mainly it contained a list of books you wanted to give away. I bought and kept them all til Christmas and gave it to your friends and family on your behalf. They were good gifts, Barry, everybody was touched. But it was kinda heart wrenching, too._

_Back then in winter, I tried to comfort myself with the thought you'd never have to experience that kind of dark and cold times, but whom was I fooling... you'll never see the warmth and the beautiful lights of that time of the year again either._

_There were tickets to a Red Sox game, real good seats, too. I went there with Frankie, hope that's what you had in mind._

_._

_Maura is in the hospital today on the other side of town, talking to the staff and discussing her schedule. She'll start next week. There are no foreigners left at the "mana yala", the hospital that was founded by Medicines Sans Frontieres. Mana yala means "house of trying", which I find rather discomforting, but Maura thinks it's down-to-earth and realistic. (Which I don't find any better!)_

_I didn't wanna come, there are enough new faces in the carpenter school each day._

_We had a big fight two nights ago. I got really pissed. Only minutes prior to that I realized I'm having a hard time trusting any relationship right now, … and that I'm scared if I lose another person, I cannot bear to feel the same amount of hurt once more._

_And then Maura tells me I am distancing myself! It felt like she already knew... knew everything really. Even before I did! Why didn't she talk to me? We used to be able to talk about anything. Does she assess me as too naive or too weak to share her thoughts?_

_I told Ma about it over the phone – writing this down I feel like I'm back in high school. _

_Later that night I got an email to my phone from Frankie, who had spoken to Ma as well and wanted to let me know, how happy she had sounded and how glad he himself was, cause I appear to be getting along over here so well. That kinda really pissed me off. I had told every one of them that Alban and I would do just fine, that they didn't have to worry and now it feels like they didn't trust that I actually could assess that. (And the fact that I really couldn't pisses me off as well.) Even if this whole trip were to go down the friggin toilet – that's just something else to handle. Which I will. And I can. _

_I hate that it feels like they don't take me serious anymore. As if going to Africa does that to you._

_However, Ma said, I should try and put down my defenses when it comes to Maura. That it would be worth it. _

_I have no idea why that scares me so much._

_Maura and I are okay as long as we talk about her insecurities, not mine. I've asked her when she had come to Ethiopia for the first time and how it had changed her. She seems a lot more comfortable around people here, more than she's in Boston and definitely more than I am right now – which was never the case before!_

_She has already given that question much thought in the past. She says, she had found some kind of freedom the first time she came here and that it was easy to get back to that each time she returned. And at the same time she couldn't bring this easiness to Boston, couldn't make it last._

_But she'd realized something else back then. A couple of months into her stay, a young medical student from Germany came, wanting to do his practical year in Challiya's hospital. They had dinner at a surgeon's house the first week of his arrival and in the middle of it the doctor had been called to an emergency C-section, so the two students remained with his wife and children._

_The doctor came back with a riddle: Upon checking the status of the infant that was stuck in the birth canal, he had discovered that it was definitely dead and yet, there was a faint heartbeat. "Twins!" Maura had exclaimed excitedly. And the other student had lost his meal all over the dining table._

_She said, back then she suddenly knew for sure that she was capable of thinking about life and death in a very technical, clinical way and that that hadn't scared her at all, but made her confident in her later choice to pursue an occupation as a medical examiner._

_She held Alban in her arms while she was telling her story and lightly_ _moved her fingers through his hair. It's an action so simple and yet so perfect, so full of love, so very un-technical._

_I truly cannot imagine what it would feel like to not constantly be aware of how precious one's own child is, to not want to know your child close-by, if not physically then emotionally. How on earth had Maura's parents been able to put so much distance between them and their child?_

_Of course she excused them. Said back then there was no internet and calling the land-line was much more difficult, too. She's always apologizing for her parent's behavior._

_I believe, she's been looking a lot into everything that concerns parenting for a while now, though. I almost don't want to know the answer to why it made me snap when I noticed her reading that parental guide. Did it feel too invasive? Does she maybe think something's not alright with Alban?_

_At the beginning of my pregnancy I asked her, if she'd take the baby if something ever happened to me. I really believed I would want her to, but I can only fully grasp at that now. It's not just about what I wish anymore - there's simply no other option. Alban and Maura belong together._

_She's more of a parent to him than his father ever was. Maybe even will be. _

_I love her for that. I love the way she loves Alban. I love that there's another person, who'd do anything for this kid. And I love that we share this._

_Not only sorrow is heavier if you carry it alone, love is, too._

_It still scares me. And still I haven't figured out what _**it**_ is exactly._

_Is it supposed to be scary?_

_._

_I'm glad, you're the one listening to all of this. I hope you are well._

_Yours,_

_Jane_

_It still scares me. And still I haven't figured out what _**it**_ is exactly._

_Is it supposed to be scary?_

_._

_I'm glad, you're the one listening to all of this. I hope you are well._

_Yours,_

_Jane_


	8. The one with the kiss

**A/N: Thank you guys for your lovely reviews, especially Dare2speed, rzles, cjunited83 and IsaBabisa for your loyalty. I hope you will be pleased.**

* * *

**Chapter 8: The one with the kiss**

.

Jane cannot remember having ever experienced a thunderstorm this violent. Flashes after flashes are illuminating her small chamber, the metal window frames are rattling from the force of the wind and the flogging rain.

Alban is crying.

He's been crying for eight and a half minutes and Jane knows, because he's never cried that long before in his short life. She has him pressed against her chest and moved away from the windows that scare even her. Who knows if those are to withstand this kind of severe weather.

Alban lets out an even louder wail and then starts to hiccup, which makes Jane successfully doubt that he's getting enough oxygen into his lungs between each desperate cry. Panic rises in her chest and she steps into the hallway, carefully moving to Maura's bedroom door in the dark. The power is out as always and she couldn't find a flashlight or light a candle with the baby in her arms. Her feet step into something wet, though she barely takes the time to wonder about that before she bangs on the doctor's door.

"Maura! Can you come out here?" The thunder drowns every noise she could possibly hear from inside the other woman's room, but soon the door in front of her is shaking and the handle clinks forcefully a couple of times.

"Jane!?"

"Yes!" Jane shouts back over a new wave of thunder and the redoubled effort of her son's cries. He is squirming so forcefully, he almost slips through her arms and Jane has to grab one of his little thighs tightly in order to make sure that he is not going to fall.

"The door is stuck!" Maura explains. "I'll climb through the window and get to the front."

Jane is not able to rationally understand anything of what is going on. She feels like she is trapped, like this door that will not open is some weird metaphor for where she stands in her life right now.

Another pounding makes her jump and she quickly moves through the living room to unlock the front door. Even from the short way Maura is soaked. Her hair is plastered to her face and neck, her clothes are dripping and her bare feet are covered in mud.

"I'm so sorry to wake you-"

"I was already up."

"I tried feeding him, rocking him-"

"Sit down, Jane."

"He's so scared, Maura, I've never seen him so scared."

Jane jumps involuntarily when Maura puts cold hands against her arms to guide her to the couch. The medical examiner seems composed, focused on the two distressed people in front of her. She lights three candles that are already waiting on the coffee table and then kneels next to Jane and her baby son, who pushes himself away from his mother's chest, face crimson red.

Maura takes half a minute to rub her palms warm and then places them against Alban's upper back and neck and pushes his tense little form gently back against Jane's chest.

"Calm your own heartbeat", she orders Jane as if it would be as simple as turning a switch.

She then starts to sing.

_Nunaj nina nena_

_Nunaj nina nena oj_

_Zaspi mi zaspi detence_

_Zaspi mi čedo mamino._

It is a Serbian cradle-song and even though Jane had overheard her friend sing it to her son, she had never done it in her presence. The moment is delicate, but Jane is not sure it helps her racing heart.

Her son's wails, however, subside to a whimpering, even though he is still shaken by sharp hiccups.

_Nek raste ruža rumena_

_Nek raste nani od meda_

_Nunaj nina nena_

_Nunaj nina nena oj._

When Alban gets drowsy, they sit in silence for a while until Maura slowly withdraws her hands. Jane believes she herself can feel the lack of their warmth.

"Do you think Alban is normal?" Jane's question is barely a whisper, but she _has_ to voice her concerns, now more than ever. Alban's emotions have rattled her tonight.

"Why would you want him to be normal?"

Jane does not know, whether she finds Maura's answer funny or sad. She doubts her friend is solely talking about Alban.

"Do you think you weren't a normal kid?" She asks back instead.

"You know I do", Maura mumbles, a little gruffly.

"I believe you were special. In the most positive meaning there is." Jane puts all the sincerity into the statement she is capable of. "You still are", she adds. "Sometimes I just feel like I can't relate to Alban as much as you can."

"Okay, but", Maura starts slowly, weighing the words, "why can't you let _him_ be special?"

"Is that a quote from your parental guide?" Jane mocks, but at the same time makes sure Maura hears how the question actually touched her.

"Go and change into some of my sweats", she suggests as she takes in Maura's soaked cotton pajamas once again.

"I'm alright", the doctor murmurs, though Jane could swear there is a blue tinge to Maura's lips.

"Oh, come on, Maur! Your shirt is practically see through."

The smaller woman immediately glances down at her chest and then frowns at Jane, when she realizes it is not true. She gets up and heads to Jane's closet anyway. She also retrieves a towel from the bathroom to dry her hair and notices the small puddle at the door to her own room when she comes back.

"It seems that the wood swelled from the water. No wonder I couldn't open the door." She almost shrieks when she turns around, Jane standing right in front of her.

"Sorry, Maur", the detective chuckles. "Can you take him? Gotta go to the bathroom."

.

When she comes back, Alban is sleeping soundly in one of Maura's arms, but the medical examiner is trembling, one hand clasped over her mouth.

Jane rushes to her side, "Maur? What's wrong, what happened?" Had she not been so very collected just moments ago?

Maura closes her eyes against a sob that is working its way up her throat. She carefully pushes Alban toward Jane with her free arm, but Jane does not reach for him.

"Please take him. I don't want to upset him again", Maura says, shaking her head. Jane cannot help but think, that Maura looks beautiful in the candlelight, even crying. She takes her son and cradles him back against her chest, but reaches out with her other arm to pull Maura against her shoulder as well.

"What upset _you_?" She asks and suddenly realizes, how crying Maura does not nearly frighten her as much as crying Alban. It troubles her on a different level, but reacting to Maura's hurt somehow comes to her more naturally.

Maura shakes her head again, not ready to answer.

.

Jane counts seventeen thunders until Maura calms down, the gaps in between the grumbling becoming longer and longer. When she thinks Maura might be drifting off to sleep, the woman in her arm starts to speak.

"Did I make you come here with me?"

"No, Maur. That was all me", Jane answers right away, not surprised by the guilt and insecurity Maura might feel. She knows, Maura rather believes she did something wrong than blame someone else. During and after their fight a few days ago, Jane had not given her the possibility to react to Jane's outburst. And Jane had not explained herself very well either.

"I was so relieved when you agreed to come, Jane. I... it felt like I was starting to lose you. Maybe I thought going to Ethiopia would somehow bind you to my side." Jane feels her friend shudder, her breath hitch.

"But now I feel very selfish, if that were the case."

Jane knows it is now or never. She cannot wait until she understands everything she feels, until she deciphers what she fears. She cannot lose Maura over her confusion, her strange need to shield herself from anything that tries to get to her.

"Maur, I don't fully comprehend what I am struggling with", she whispers, "but even if I push you away, I want you close." Once she has said it out loud, she knows it is the truth. She takes Maura's hand and intertwines their fingers at Alban's back.

"I need to know that you won't walk away. Even if I'm pushing very hard."

She finds Maura's eyes.

"I need to know that for Alban... because he feels safe around you. I need to know that for yourself, 'cause I see how much you love him and it would break my heart, if _I_ did something that keeps you two apart."

Maura clutches Jane's shoulder with her free hand. Holding on.

"And I need to know that for myself. I can't lose you either."

And then Maura moves in closer.

And places a feather light kiss against Jane's lips.

* * *

**A/N: So, this has been the first arch of the story. The next updates will take me a little longer again - sorry.**

Translation of the Serbian lullaby:

1) Sleep nina nena, sleep nina nena-oh, sleep for me, sleep, little child. sleep mommy's child.

2) May the red rose grow, may it grow for mommy honey sweet, sleep nina nena, sleep nina nena-oh.


	9. The one after the kiss

**Chapter 9: The one after the kiss**

**.**

**Challiya, Wednesday 16th of September 2015**

_Alban just rolled over for the first time! I'm bursting with pride and don't even feel that silly ;)_

_Each morning I help Tayanne sorting grains now (she's crazy fast) and Alban lies on his baby blanket on the patio. And today he simply rolled over, as if he's been doing it forever, and cheered full of joy, cause the world finally seemed to be in its right place for him._

_Now he's fallen asleep, chewing his fist. I'm so glad, he's better now. Three nights ago he cried really hard and I thought the reason had been the cruel thunderstorm that night, but I guess that was only partially true. _

_The next day he'd woken with a slightly risen temperature, red cheeks, kept on crying. Hannes took us to the hospital right away. Maura asserted we'd only be taking reasonable precautions, that a baby with a slight fever was no reason to be scared, that we just wanted to be on the safe side._

_Well, screw that. Nothing seems reasonable, when your kid is sick. I know that now._

_I've sent Maura in with Alban, couldn't bear to watch when they stuck a needle in his small leg to draw some blood. I threw up into one of the drains right after they left, my whole body revolting against reason._

_Figuring things out about your kid makes you review your own childhood and parents automatically. Against all my willpower I need to confess, I never felt closer to Ma in that way. I understand her worry. I __feel_ _it._

_Maura actually knows an American family who lost a baby to malaria (though they lived in Central African Republic, which has much less developed medical care and much more malaria). She's not only seen what it does to parents who lose a kid, she also learned what it was like for them to deal with the guilt. They had taken it to a foreign country and in that way somehow neglected him the best care possible. At least that's what they felt, she said._

_Before we made plans to come here, we played some of those scenarios through in our heads. Malaria isn't an issue in Western Ethiopia, which was a big pro, but the question whether to risk a child's life like that, who's completely depending on the decisions you make, remained... and remains!_

_I gotta admit, it kinda felt safe to go, cause Maura said it would be. I know she would want Alban to be safe, I don't think there's anything I'd trust more. And if she thinks Ethiopia is safe enough, so do I. In the end, there's only so much you can do to prevent your child from... an automobile accident? Anything really. Right? _

_Yesterday Alban's first tooth broke through. Maura says it's pretty early, therefore normal that we didn't expect it. Relief is like a hot shower after standing in the rain for too long. He looks so cute now, whenever he smiles and that pretty, little white tooth stands out._

_Oh look, Frost, I filled some lines._

_._

_I actually didn't wanna write, cause I don't wanna process what has happened. I guess, I don't want any answers. I might be scared of each possibility. I only intended to make a note on Alban's progress, cause if I don't write things down they tend to blur together astonishingly quickly over here._

_I've been occupied with lots and lots of chores, but surprisingly it doesn't feel that domestic. It's not even as annoying and boring as it has been back in Boston, even though every task takes twice as long or even longer (for example washing Alban's cotton diapers, which I declare as my least favorite part). _

_Back home five and a half months of not going to work had been all I could bear. Maura knew. Everybody probably knew. That's why we kept looking for an alternative. Over here, I'm still staying at home with my kid, and yet it feels very different. Cleaning and washing somehow seems more existential. Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? In Boston I'd go crazy without a washing machine._

_In fact, the first and the last time – up to this day – that I have washed by hand was when I was eight or nine, and Pop had had a bad month with almost no contracts, so the power supply to our apartment got cut, cause we couldn't pay the bills. The whole school made fun of the plumber-kids that didn't even have a working washing machine. So, that had felt kinda existential as well. In a bad way._

_I'm even ironing each and every piece of clothing we wash. To kill the eggs of the mango flies, which are like grappling hooks and therefore get stuck under your skin, where they develop into maggots within a week, before you can squeeze them out like a pimple. _

_Gross! An experience I really want to miss out on._

_Maura started her rotations at the hospital today. This week she'll be assisting with the preparations of an outreach program for eye care that'll start next month as soon as the rain lessens. Apparently cataracts are a big problem here, because the water they wash themselves in is not clean._

_._

_So, Barry, why is it that you get me talking?_

_It does make me feel better, lighter. I can be as clueless, as freaked out and as cheesy as I want. It's like when Maura talks to her corpses, I guess. Maybe you're still laughing and judging, but this is the only time I'm glad I won't hear you._

_Bara Harar, by the way – Happy New Year!_

_We celebrated the beginning of 2008 five days ago, so I know, I'm a little late - and not only, cause it's been seven years - but the people in Challiya haven't stopped congratulating each other on the new year either. It's all you hear on the streets and it's a greeting I finally understand._

_Maura was right, it's a beautiful time of the year, the beginning of summer, really. The trees, the bushes, the grass – everything blooms, smells intense... The floors of the houses as well as the front yards got covered in freshly cut grass and adorned with the warm yellow meskal flower, which only blossoms around that time. _

_All day small groups of children would come to our house and ask for candy and coins (that are worth so little you can't even express it in Cents). New Year's was also the first time I met most of the hospital staff. Maura had brought sparklers for everyone (I love her for that, it was nothing less than genius). It made all those usually very serious and unreadable professionals cheer in delight as well as be openly upset when after the sparklers had burned down only ashes and wisps of smoke remained. _

_Afterward we had a wonderful and rich dinner at Hannes' place, full of laughter thanks to Simon and Bacha, who joined us. (And Tayanne made the best tomato salad ever!) They drank Bedele, an apparently very good Ethiopian beer, and they had lots of it, even Maura, which was the meanest part of the evening. Sometime after 11 PM we decided to let the new year start without our conscious presence, something Alban had very wisely chosen long before us._

_._

_She kissed me, you know._

_She kissed me and I didn't kiss her back and she didn't apologize and we didn't talk about it and the next morning we were too occupied with a feverish little baby._

_Should I've expected this to happen? Or was it something that was born that very night?_

_It certainly feels new, innocent, unspent. At the same time familiar, loaded, overflowing._

_At first, I honestly believed it had only been that one moment. I was convinced... or I convinced myself it had only happened due to the nerve-stretching circumstances._

_But then yesterday I found her reading her parental guide out loud in her bed to Alban, who was fast asleep on her chest. I had been outside to hang up our clothes during the usual rain break in the afternoon. Maura's door is at the wood workshop, cause it needs to get sanded (Hannes sent someone to fix the leak on our roof yesterday) and so I could see them lying in her bed from the hallway. _

_I don't even know, why I explain all those circumstances to you – maybe... it somehow felt like I was intruding. Watching them, however, awakened that same feeling I had during the storm a couple of nights back. I've said it before: Whenever I see them together, it's something homelike, it's about safety. I believe it's been like this from the very beginning._

_You know me, I didn't wanna stay in the hospital a second longer than necessary. Alban was healthy and I felt okay. We left four hours after his birth. AMA, of course, but who cares if your best friend is a doctor, right?_

_I asked Maura to take me home. Her home, of course. That had been out of question months ago._ _I bet it wasn't easy to get rid of my family, but Maura handled all of that for me. She also politely excused the nurse that wanted to wrap Alban into the yellow woolen blanket Ma had made for him (five months prior to his birth). She placed the baby against my chest, much like she has done a couple of nights ago when he was crying as hard as never before, and wrapped the blanket around my upper body. That's how we left the hospital._

_We drove through the night in silence, Alban asleep in the same car seat he sleeps in right now. I don't remember the short walk up the driveway, or her unlocking the front door, but I remember the warmth from the lights in the living room and the strange thought, how something that was so familiar to me, was completely new to Alban and that due to his newness everything would have to be seen in a different light... as if not one single thing could stay the same now, as if I'd have to turn over everything I thought I knew._

_I haven't thought about that night since... that night really. I know that impression had scared me, numbed me a little. Changes never used to get to me as much. Ever since Cavanaugh brought up your replacement, or when that tech guy sat in your chair - It just got worse and worse, I guess._

_Maura took us to her bedroom. I was already in sweats, so I simply climbed on top of the covers and placed Alban in the middle of the bed. I don't know, how much later Maura joined us. She must have unwrapped him at some point, cause all I remember is the sight of her finger in his tiny hand._

_I knew then, no matter how new and strange the world was to Alban, he was right where he belonged._

_But seeing them yesterday and after the night where she... you know, kissed me, I realized there is something else, but the homey and safe feeling. It's not only about where Alban belongs – I have to figure out, how I fit in, too._

_Watching Maura with the baby on her chest, I knew, the answer wasn't solely within myself anymore. The answer can't be separated from Alban AND from Maura anymore. I knew, if I wanted to find out, I'd have to join them - I did, literally, and Maura smiled at me with a breathtaking happiness in her eyes when I laid down beside them - but I will also have to understand, what it means to "join" them figuratively._

_._

_I guess, I'm kinda glad she didn't apologize for the kiss, cause... that wouldn't be right. I'd know even less where to go from here, if she'd marked that moment as a mistake._

_._

_Yours,_

_Jane_


	10. The one where Maura faints

**Chapter 10: The one where Maura faints**

.

It is Maura's second week at the hospital when a man in scrubs comes to find Jane, asking her to follow him to _Dr. Maura_. The combination of her friend's title and given name has a strange ring to Jane's ears and a nurse troubling himself to come and get her from the other side of town unsettles her deeply.

The morning is not even four hours old. Jane has started to count in Ethiopian time to sidestep some of the misunderstandings she has to face on a daily basis. And when the nurse comes looking for her, she is on top of Tayanne's kitchen, kneeling on the hay patches that make the roof, trying to free the smoke outlet.

Jane slides down the roof easily, sends Tayanne a questioning look to ask her, whether she can watch Alban for a little longer, and after a nod from the other woman, she follows the man to the yard, where one of the hospital's Land Rovers and a driver are waiting. Maura told Jane, how incredibly expensive fuel is in Ethiopia and that the hospital can only seldom and in very severe cases afford to pick up patients. Even less during the rainy season due to the worse condition of the roads. The fact that the car is waiting for Jane now, engine running, makes her stomach churn, her heart hammering painfully against its organic shell.

There is nothing to get out of the guy concerning the reason of his escort to the _mana_ _yala_, the house of trying, a name Jane dreads, now more than ever. She is desperately trying to keep her mind from picturing all kinds of ugly scenarios of what might have happened to Maura. The doctor is still taking shifts at the eye department and since Jane cannot think of one serious disease that can be communicated from someone else's eyes, she somewhat felt on the safe side there, even though she suspects Maura could easily turn this kind of certainty upside down.

At the hospital Jane is greeted by Dr. Samuel whom she recalls from the gathering on New Year's Eve as well as from Maura's reports every evening. He is one of the hospital's surgeons and he excuses the nurse, who had picked up Jane, and asks her to follow him. He says that they have been trying to reach her, but Jane finds it hard to explain, what she had been doing and why she could not get or hear her phone.

She realizes she already visits the hospital for the second time under panicked circumstances and suddenly wishes for more time to meet the people Maura works with more properly and appreciate the beautifully landscaped garden in between the long, roofed but wall-less paths that connect the separate departments.

The young surgeon shakes her out of her thoughts, saying, "I'm sorry for what happened to your friend", and Jane can't prevent the invasion of a picture that shows Maura covered in blood, only the source of it still undetected. She is incapable to reply something, only stops breathing in response and follows his white coat through a door and into the middle of a fairly large crowd considering the rather small room. A salty smell of urine, blood and cleaning powder invades her nostrils, as the detective takes in the scene in front of her.

Someone is lying on a hospital bed, over which many men are hovering, and when Jane steps closer, oxygen fills her lungs with the sudden relieved gasp as she realizes it is not Maura. She feels the detective in her come to life, working to make sense of the situation, despite the fact she does not understand a word that is being spoken around her and that she is still anxious to make sure that Maura is alright.

The patient on the bed is an Ethiopian boy, not older than eight. One of his eyes is covered in gauze, his pillow has blood spatters all over and he is whimpering, obviously in pain. Before Jane can move to find out more, a hand on her shoulder startles her, Dr. Samuel urging her to move around the group of men and on to another bed.

There lies Maura, dressed in a white coat herself, stethoscope around her neck. Another nurse is next to her, taking her pulse. The last time Jane had seen her friend look this much like a real doctor, who is attending to live patients, was when that building in Boston had collapsed, trapping her brother, her baby nephew and her partner in the basement garage. That day Maura had looked tousled, exhausted and overwhelmed, but very much alive. Now her face is as white as her coat, she looks disoriented and is concentrating on taking deep and even breaths through her nose.

"Are you alright, Maur?" Jane asks, rushing to her friend's side, bumping awkwardly into the metal bed frame. Maura flinches and gives Jane a bewildered look.

"What happened?" Jane tries, gently now, carefully moving her hand so that Maura can see she is intending to touch her forehead to push away some sweaty strands of hair as well as checking for a fever. Out of the corner of her eye Jane notices Dr. Samuel nodding at the nurse in order to dismiss her, before he leaves, too, to give them as much privacy as possible.

"That boy", Maura slurs and Jane's brows furrow in concern. Maura swallows and her eyes dart around the room as if she is trying to find the injured child, but then she seems relieved when she finds Jane's eyes instead.

"They brought him in yesterday", Maura starts to explain, "ten inch stick inside his eye." Jane winces in displeasing sympathy. "Dr. Samuel had to take it out, stick and eye, and this morning on rounds he wanted to exchange the gauze bandages inside the now empty socket, but the fabric stuck to the wound and the boy- he was in so much agony..." Her illustration subsides in a shaky breath and the smallest whimper that makes Jane's heart go out to her friend as well as the little boy.

"I fainted, Jane", Maura whispers now, and she does not look simply embarrassed, but humiliated.

Jane has moved her hand to Maura's cheek, which she is stroking steadily. She moves in a little closer, answering Maura's earnest gaze with determination, whispering back: "Your secret's safe with me."

.

She stumbles toward the bathroom before she is fully awake, before she even knows why.

She finds Maura leaning over the toilet, retching violently. She gets there in an instant, holding her friend's hair back, rubbing her neck, catching her as she sinks to the floor.

She drags the smaller woman back to her bed, makes her take anti-nausea-drops and places a bowl next to the mattress. She says, "I knew somethin' was up. You'd never faint over some lost eyeball", and notices the weak attempt of a smile Maura gives her.

She leaves her a little too hastily, goes to clean the bathroom. She needs to think.

.

"You don't have to do that, you know?" Maura startles her.

It is true. Jane has been cleaning way more than necessary, but she also knows Maura is talking about the mess she made. The medical examiner is leaning against the door frame, pale and frowning.

"Should we go to the hospital?" Jane questions, the frown on her own forehead deepening when Maura shakes her head. "When Alban was sick, you insisted on going to the hospital right away", the detective argues.

"I don't have the immune system of a barely five-month-old."

"You're resistant to malaria?" Jane asks incredulously.

"I told you, malaria is highly unlikely." Maura almost rolls her eyes. Almost. Jane catches it anyway. And decides not to act on it, not to get angry. She just needs to know, if Maura is also going to be reasonable when it comes to her own health.

"You also said that the risk of catching meningitis is much higher and I'd actually prefer another possibility."

"I'll have to stop telling you about these things", Maura smirks. "And you usually don't _catch_ meningitis. I probably have amebiasis. That's not too bad, if I keep hydrated."

"How do you know?"

"Because it can be treated easily with antibiotics and the only danger is the severe diarrhea."

"Maura!" Jane wrinkles her nose in disgust. "I meant, how do you know you've got... _that_."

There is a pause before the doctor admits, "I've been drinking unfiltered water at the hospital."

"Why would you do that!?" It comes out more accusing than Jane intended. She steps closer to her friend, trying to let her know, how much she really cares, how this is all about... _caring, _is it not?

Maura shrugs. "Everyone else does."

"Wow", Jane exhales, smiling genuinely.

"What?" Maura asks, a little insecure nevertheless.

"I've never seen you as everyone else", the detective smirks. "Are by any chance all of them sick now?"

"Not everyone's stomach reacts to amebas."

"Which makes you special again, congratulations", Jane chuckles sarcastically. "Didn't you learn from that experience?"

"I never tried the water on my other trips", Maura mumbles in response.

Somehow this last statement makes Jane's smile disappear. Carefully she asks, "so, what makes you more adventurous now?"

"I don't know", Maura whispers, eyes glued to the floor. "I guess, I... I just want to belong."

Jane waits a beat, then reaches out to gently push Maura's chin up. There are unshed tears in her friend's eyes, her lip is quivering. Jane wonders when things got so complicated. Why can they not just be open with each other and face whatever feelings are there to face. There is nothing she wants more than to ease Maura's pain, the loneliness this woman finds herself in again and again. She knows there is only one answer to her own reclusion as she pulls Maura into her arms.

"Me, too", she whispers into the other woman's hair.


	11. The one about belonging

**Chapter 11: The one about belonging**

**.**

**_Challiya, Thursday 24th of September 2015_**

_Today's a slow day. Maura is pretty weak, but the nurse, who came by our house this morning, affirmed she's doing fine. She's drowsy and pale. I don't like it. But when she wakes, she smiles and is coherent. _

_She's been to the clinic yesterday (it's only a short hop from the carpenter school) and they confirmed the amebiasis theory and provided her with antibiotics. I'm glad we've got that clinic close by, even though only nurses are working there. We'd be able to reach the hospital by car in ten anyway._

_I'm keeping her hydrated as best as I can, but even though the vomiting has stopped, she's losing enough from her runs to the toilet every half an hour – ha! The toilet runs. Oh, she'd kill me, if she knew I was writing this. She always looks deeply embarrassed when she comes back from the bathroom and I know she's looked at herself in the mirror. There's no point in telling her it doesn't matter or that she actually looks kind of cute, tousled hair, all sleepy, lazy._

_Here's an anecdote that cheered us up: Around noon, a small herd of five to seven goats came into the nice little garden in front of our house and wholeheartedly began ripping our beautiful sunflowers out of the ground. I went outside and scared them off by clapping my hands. Five minutes later they were grazing comfortably again. Frustrated, I went outside for the second time and noticed the way they raised their heads in alarm when they saw me. _

_On the spur of the moment I chased them up the road, passing my room where Maura was cheering me on from the window, and passing the wood-workshop, the guard's booth and the gate. I chased them all the way up to the clinic. The workers, the guard, the people coming from town – they all stopped and laughed. Honestly amused. I had to laugh, too, and did so the whole way back to the house, feeling incredibly relieved and... yeah, lucky. Finally I had done something meaningful over here._

_Well, actually, freeing the smoke outlet of Tayanne's kitchen has given me that kind of satisfaction once before. I learned that the kitchen is somewhat sacred to the person it belongs to, that it is impolite and highly unusual for a foreigner, or men for that matter, to enter. Therefore I can't blame Hannes for not knowing under what kind of circumstances his cook was working every day. From the outside there is no way to tell what's inside the circular hut. There's no window and even though the door stands always open, it's like gazing into a black hole._

_Again and again over the last couple of days I have asked her permission to enter it – merely by motioning towards it. I've gathered so much respect and sympathy for the young woman... I actually got seriously frustrated with Hannes, when I finally got Tayanne's permissive nod to step into the hut, that morning Maura got sick. _

_She had eyed me openly, smiled a little shyly, amused and proud at the same time as I went over the threshold. I, however, couldn't make out anything once I was inside. My eyes watered immediately, hell, I was barely able to keep them open. Sharp smoke filled my nose and mouth, my lungs and then I already stumbled back outside, coughing and gasping for air. No idea how that woman didn't die from smoke poisoning by now._

_Yesterday afternoon I fortunately found the time to fix the actual simple technical problem. After I finished I got three buckets of ashes out of the hut! Of course I managed to get grime all over myself, that even made Maura retrieve my Leica to get a picture. Of me as well as the with laughter rocking and incredulous looking bystanders._

_Tayanne got all nervous and unhappy with me climbing the hut. I bet, it's a typical man's job, which obviously only fueled me to do it myself. Plus, I'm not only female, but also white, which always seems to complicate things. Especially when I get myself dirty, which to me seems impossible to avoid, having to walk knuckle deep mud roads each day. I can only marvel at the Ethiopian's and, in fact, Maura's ability to keep inexplicably dressy at all times._

_There'll probably be days I wish the goats were back. Or some day I'll just get used to feeling quite useless._

_._

_Last week we made a habit of reading to each other while Alban takes his afternoon nap. Maura got home from the hospital each day around four and she loved to just crawl up in bed and place this sleepy little gnome on her chest. _

_It's still the parenting book we read, which I find rather philosophical and therefore a little annoying (I doubt that Ethiopians reflect as much on their children and still they seem fine to me, though I'm not surprised at all. I always knew Maura would over think every tiny bit concerning the baby, not that I don't ever do that, but I somehow believe it doesn't concern every single little choice I make about what kind of fabric his car seat has or what kind of music to listen to in his presence (before and after his birth!)), anyway... I have actually found a couple of passages very, uhm, stimulating, I must say._

_Now that Maura is sick, I moved her mattress to my room and we've got a lot more time to read. My room actually is nothing but beds now. In between her mattress and mine is one of Alban's baby blankets. He spends most of his time rolling around now, swinging a small calabash quite forcefully left and right. Bacha brought it the other day, it has dried and its seeds are loose inside, so they make a lot of noise when you shake it – we call it the calarattle. _

_Over here it's the only toy Alban's got so far. Maura suggested to keep our luggage free of all the gifts (that just kept coming) and I liked the idea. It might sound cheesy and smug, but I kinda like the impression that he only needs oxygen, food, a place to sleep and people who care about him. We only took the car seat, a baby blanket, clothes (also the ones he still has to grow into) and, yeah, cotton diapers, which I also blame on Maura and which make me feel so... hippie._

_Of course Ma, Frankie and Tommy overloaded him with all the wonderful things a baby doesn't need. I guess, I did the same when TJ was born. Even Constance sent Alban a stuffed animal, a fair trade, small elephant. I'm still amazed that she cared to do so. Or maybe I'm surprised that Maura even told her mother about Alban and it actually made Constance recognize that he's important to her._

_Today we read a chapter about solidarity, which was pretty moving. It started with an example of a teacher who knows the father of one of his students is an alcoholic, which he then divulged in front of the whole class. Then the student got up, denied it and defended his father. The author says it was the student, not the teacher, who spoke the truth, cause solidarity with one's parents, a statement about their relationship, always makes the (higher) truth._

_I had a hard time not eying Maura too openly, but I really wonder how she feels about that. I keep telling her about every annoying detail concerning Ma, but Maura would never speak ill of either of her parents. It's almost impossible to engage her in a conversation that might lead to acknowledging where they've failed her. Sure, she can talk about how it wasn't righteous of Hope to use Paddy's money for MEND and I don't even have to name the reasons why she dislikes her mob father – but there's only little to get out of her, when it comes to the parent-child-relationship. And even less regarding her adoptive parents._

_Up to this very year I didn't even know Maura's father's name. Given how close we are, don't you think that's weird, Barry? I got to know both your parents in person, even though your father is at sea most of the time._

_The way her father has hurt her – that's just the tip of the iceberg. She has two sets of parents and none of them have been there for her the way they should have been _**and**_ when she really needed them. But like I said, we don't talk about them that much. _

_I mean, I know I have my part in this, joking about proclamation and stuff when she tries to talk to me. Do you think that – on some level – she's still intentionally protecting them by not talking about them, cause... cause I'm too judgmental? Am I? Or does she really not think about them that way, and that often? Solidarity doesn't mean they can do what they want to her without bearing the consequences, right? I wonder whether Maura's parents don't know what they're missing out on just as much as Maura doesn't know, how to ask them for it._

_Last night I asked her, why she thinks it is that she couldn't bring the easiness she has around people in Ethiopia to Boston. She looked so sad and uncomfortable, so vulnerable and yet I don't think she hated that she was all that. It's more like it was okay to be all that, it really was. And even though such moments are kind of heavy, I wouldn't want it any other way, I wish it could be this raw and open more often._

_It... or _**she**_ made me feel more alive than I might have been for the past couple of months. _

_._

_Saying this, I find myself guilty. Toward Alban mainly, I guess, but maybe to all the people close to me. Guilty of not trying harder, not being... better. Maybe it wasn't possible at the time, too much going on, and... and at some point I kinda shut down in fear of losing it completely. Maybe. I'd like to go back and handle a couple of things differently anyway._

_Maura believes, there's a side to her she can only fully explore and... and _**be**_ when she's in Challiya. She didn't even say Ethiopia. It's this concrete place. She thinks, it's always got something to do with distances. In Boston she's distanced herself toward people, to be able to be that Boston-part of her, in Ethiopia she's distancing herself from that same part of her, which lets her be closer to the people. I'm not sure, I got that right now, but it was something like that. Pretty confusing, huh?_

_Sometimes I think, she's just really stuck in her head and puts more thought and meaning into all that distance stuff than it's worth. But on the other hand I'd like to believe that despite all that she struggles with, she's not either Boston or Ethiopia-Maura, when we're together. That somehow she can be both with me, cause maybe I'm a little like Challiya to her when we are in Boston, even though that has a somewhat arrogant connotation. _

_What I want to say, I think she knows how to be complete and I think she can be just that when we're together. At least it's been like this before and maybe we have drifted a little bit apart, but getting back there is more than possible... it's beautiful and more intense._

_We're over 6.000 miles from home and we're figuring out, where we belong. Do you think that's crazy?_

_You know, she _**does**_ guess. Sometimes. And not only when I force her. Two nights ago, when she got sick, she said she guesses she wants to belong... somewhere. I didn't even notice it until I was back in bed, but as soon as I realized what it meant, I got back up and suggested that we move her mattress to my room. For once I wanted to be the literal one in our relationship and give her an obvious closeness._

_I figure, for her guessing must be like letting her guard down, like pushing through some wall, or one of the walls – and I just had to act on that, cause who knows, she might just add another layer if I didn't, right?_

_I want to give her something, somewhere to belong to. I believe I always wanted that. Ever since she first met Hoyt and that bastard made her doubt her... humanity. It's why I'd be so suspicious about Ian, why I'd asked Constance to be more affectionate toward her, why I encouraged Maura to pursue things with Jack. - she's one of the most lovable persons I know, she doesn't deserve to be left, neglected, lonely. And yeah, that's what they are and were: Ian the leaver, Constance the neglector and Jack the possible but unfulfilled promise of an end to loneliness. _

_Hm. I guess, that's not really fair, but true nonetheless!, and I know Maura's relationship with these people is much more complex and the love she feels might be that higher truth the author talked about, but in the end I can see only one point: _

_She should be loved._

_And I can do that, right?_

_._

_I did love you, Frost. Still do. Did I let you know that enough?_

_Love,_

_Jane_

* * *

A/N: The story about the student and the teacher is from a book by Bonhoeffer.


	12. The one where a mystery starts

**Chapter 12: The one where a mystery starts**

.

Not even one week passes until they experience another strange night. This time there is no thunder and no one getting sick involved, instead it starts with a bat getting stuck in Jane's mosquito net.

The rainy season is coming to an end, therefore the rainfall gets even heavier, though less frequent, and the days and nights are becoming hotter. Jane usually sleeps with her window wide open now, not only because of the tropical nights, but also because there are three people in the small room. When Maura got better, none of them addressed the issue of moving her mattress back to her own room, both of them glad they got that settled.

The bat spits out one high-pitched tone after another, flying panicked circles inside the net. Maura immediately stumbles from her makeshift bed on the floor and clumsily searches for Alban in between a _gabi_ and the folds of the net. Jane cannot help but chuckle at the agitated movements of her friend, getting up herself to fully open the net and light a candle.

"Bats are dangerous disease vectors. It could be carrying-"

But Jane waves the doctor away. "It's alright, Maur'. I'm not laughing about you. No need for a lecture."

She is correct, the bat has already found its way out the window again, but her words leave a somewhat harsh echo in her ears, so she reaches for one of Maura's elbows and tugs her closer.

The sudden proximity makes her nervous and the shuddering breath she takes gives it away.

"Thank you", she says tentatively and maybe Maura knows just what and how much she means it. Jane turns and heads for the bathroom, though she is stopped half way. The back door, which has always been locked since Jane learned it only led into a savaged garden and to overgrown stairs on the rear end of their house, stands wide open. And the keys they usually keep inside the lock of the _front_ door somehow made it into the hall and under one of Jane's bare feet.

The detective moves to close the door, thinking hard, but before the wheels really start turning, Maura interrupts her, pulling her thoughts into another direction.

"You sometimes think I'm odd, don't you?" The woman is not looking at her, but down at the bundle in her arms, the small boy staring right back, eyes wide and curious. The scene holds a hint of a satire and Jane barely catches herself before giving an enthusiastic and teasing _'sometimes!?'_. Maura's tone has been too serious and she also has been kind of sensitive lately when it comes to Jane's jokes. Jane decides to only shake her head instead and wait for the other woman to continue.

"I...", Maura clears her throat, obviously struggling with the words. "Well, _I_ think it is odd, that I don't..." She makes an indecisive movement with her hand. "I don't really have a family of my own, or- or I don't seem to be capable of engaging with my family."

At this point, Maura has already blushed crimson and the last part of her confession-like statement is barely audible. "The way I can be- the way I _am_ here in Challiya, or with your family... it doesn't make sense. How come I only thrive where ever I don't naturally belong? "

Jane steps in front of her friend and her son. She feels like she has a whole speech prepared and yet, she needs to choose her words very carefully.

"Look, Maura, every little thing about you speaks of warmth _and_ is natural. The kind of food you make, your love for a good cup of tea or coffee, the colors of the clothes you choose, your tick with shoes, the design of your office, the warmth of your home that has always been open for me and my family, your concern for us, the way you sing to Alban, the way you cover his ears whenever something gets too loud or too scary, or the way you hold him now. What you are like over here, the friends you have and the work you do, the questions you ask, your sadness at some times... and the way you smile at me, laugh about my jokes... and love me." Jane has to swallow. "You see? You've got the whole cheesy package. You are a _crucial, irreplaceable_ part of _our_ family."

They search each other's eyes in silence before Maura starts with a "But I don't really belong he-" and Jane has to cut her off. She takes Maura's hands, like she has done a few times now when she wanted to tell her friend something important, something she wanted to have sink in. She has given this much thought. She is sure about this.

"Who told you that?" She looks at Maura as if she is seriously expecting the medical examiner to give her a person's name. "Maybe the distance your parents kept with you equaled the distance you kept to other people – but that's not who your are anymore. If you feel you're not in the right spot that'd be alright, Maur', but if you _do_, then that's all you need to know. That's all belonging is about."

"What are we doing?" Maura asks in return and the helpless whimper she gives, tugs at Jane's heart.

"We just are", Jane offers after a moment and Maura shakes her head at that. The detective does not know, how to interpret the small gesture, but then the other woman reaches out for her, holding Alban with just one arm. She tentatively pushes a strand of hair behind the taller woman's ear and cups her cheek, brushing over the spot underneath Jane's eye with her thump.

Jane's eyelids flutter close as she leans into the touch.

"Can't we just let this happen?" she breathes.

And Maura, big brain, over-thinking, analyzing Maura, nods.

The detective knows without looking.

.

_She is five years old, whirling around in the kitchen, clapping her hands to a song from the radio. She climbs a kitchen counter with no effort and reaches for the already blaring machine to turn the volume up even more. When her father enters the room he cannot hear his daughter call out for him, the music drowns everything out._

"_Pop, catch me!" The girl jumps without checking whether her father is ready or not. Frank, however, notices the small figure flying from the cupboard out of the corner of his eyes. He reaches out just in time to grab her around the waist and keep her from tumbling to the ground. He does not chide her. He lifts her up to his shoulders and starts spinning around to the music as fast as he can go, enjoying the kid's laughter and even more the trust the girl has in him. _

_After a while, the song fades out, he tries to look up at his child, who let her head drop into her father's hair, exhausted from giggling._

Jane wakes up on her stomach, her face very close to the rim of her bed. Her eyes take a while until they adjust to the dark blueish room and she realizes it must be some time after six in the morning. Maura is sleeping on her stomach as well, down on the mattress that by now lies next to Jane's bed with no baby blanket in between anymore and under two mosquito nets they have connected to one another.

Jane's hand is resting upon the other woman's back. At the sight Jane huffs out some air in surprise, but then she grabs Maura's upper arm and softly shakes her awake. As the other woman starts to react, Jane moves around to lie on her back and pulls Maura up onto the real bed, and in fact, onto herself, because on Jane's other side Alban is still sound asleep.

Jane can feel Maura go rigid on top of her, can feel Mauar's fast beating heart thump against her chest, but then the smaller woman calms and rests the side of her face on Jane's shoulder. Just like that.

"It's weird, having you sleep down there", Jane explains.

"Like I'm your servant?"

"Ugh, now it's even worse!" Jane snorts.

"Bad or good dream?" Maura chuckles then.

"Good, I guess", Jane whispers carefully. For months the only person lying on top of her had been her son. Maura's weight, her breath that strikes Jane's collarbone, her legs that entangle with hers – all of it feels incredibly good. In a very different and very new way.

"Something about Pop and how warm our relationship was when I was a kid. I miss that. I miss him, sometimes."

"You ever afraid Alban and you could drift apart like that?"

"No!" Jane let's out sarcastically, secretly marveling about Maura's incomplete and lazy sentences. "I'm completely free of anticipation these days." And that makes Maura laugh, louder this time, which wakes Alban. He turns his head to look at them and squeaks in delight as he sees their faces, then smiles.

"Isn't that the best thing?" Maura rasps in a way that sends shivers down Jane's spine. "Nothing is strange to him."

"You're right. He's just glad we're there." Alban gets hold of one of his feet in each hand, swinging softly from side to side and babbling some "rororos". Maura reaches out to let her fingers run over his curly head, then searches for Jane's sheets and wraps them in it. When she lies back down, her forehead close to Jane's chin again, the taller woman cannot believe that this has never happened before, since it definitely is supposed to be this way.

"Was it like this with Ian?" She cannot help but ask.

"No." Even though Maura answers without a pause, she also changes the subject hurriedly and marks that no further explanations will follow. "Are you excited about your trip today?"

"Well", Jane starts, trying to let the unsatisfying answer slide and convincing herself that Maura's one syllable answer actually might be the best way to handle the topic. "There are some mixed feelings. I'm afraid it might be too soon to leave Alban for half a day. On the other hand I cannot wait to leave the gates of the carpenter school as well as the outskirts of Challiya."

A couple of days ago a can of green oil paint and a brush had been waiting on Jane's usual breakfast slat. "There are some benches and tables that need to be done by Monday", was all Hannes had given her as an explanation. Later, the young carpenter Bacha filled her in on a delivery trip to a place called Guji, located 30 miles east from the compound and on the other side of the Dilla river. Hannes' students, carpenters and day laborers had been working on a heavy load of benches and tables for a new school over there as well as sample boxes for a nearby goldmine.

Although everything in Challiya had been new enough to keep Jane occupied, the feeling of being confined had grown lately. She knew she needed to move soon, needed to be part of something other than her domestic routine. And Hannes had noticed Jane's growing discontent the way he detects everything that is unexpressed and nonetheless happening around him. It is a comforting, non-intruding way of being looked after.

Meticulously, Jane had painted the steal legs of the seemingly endless rows of furniture until she felt like she earned the right to go along. The loading of the truck took a whole day. Seven layers of furniture had to be stacked and secured and Hannes had promised they would leave early morning, if it did not rain.

.

The sun rises at seven, promising 12 hours, maybe of sunshine, until night will fall once more. As Jane feeds her son one more time before leaving, Maura takes a cold shower and discovers a slit in the metallic mosquito net that is held by the wooden frames of their bathroom window. That is when Jane remembers the strange thing about the keys and the back door.

Hannes stays calm when they recount the strange story of their night and ask him if the window could have been used for a break in. Jane detects something brewing under his surface, something she cannot place, yet. He advises them to keep their windows closed at night, shutters, too. Nothing is missing, so the whole thing just seems weird for now and Jane cannot bring herself to care too much in the face of the day she has ahead of her.

Though, when they say their goodbyes and Maura shakes Alban's little arm to wave after Jane and the detective leaves the house to follow Hannes' honking to the truck on the cobblestone road, she steps on something and when she checks what it is, she recognizes Alban's little _calarattle_, the dried calabash they have let him play with, shattered into a hundred pieces – and not by Jane's foot.


	13. The one where they are shipping

A/N: Sorry for breaking the pattern here, normally an entry from Jane is supposed to follow, but the story worked out better this way.

* * *

**Chapter 13: The one where they are shipping**

.

They leave for Guji ten to seven in the morning. Mist is climbing out of the grassland and herds of baboons get chased out of the corn fields. The road that leads to their destination is such a narrow one that the truck repeatedly grazes the batten fences of the dwellings, which are built along the road just like in Challiya. On more than one occasion Hannes, Bacha and the day laborer that came with them need to get out to take down some thick mango tree branches that would have made the passing of their high load impossible. The atmosphere among the people in the villages seems tense to Jane, much different than around the carpenter school where everyone greets her in a friendly manner or at least marvels at her openly.

The truck drags on, going only three miles per hour, not just because of the heavy school benches and tables, but also because of the engine that desperately needs to be attended, as Hannes explains, and as soon as they have to climb a gradient they are not hitting anything past the three mile mark. Unfortunately, the road to Guji ascends continuously.

At some point, three teenagers start to follow the vehicle, jogging along, knocking against the passenger's door from time to time and call out "money!" or "mobile!" through the open window, as if the travelers were simply in need oof this kind of prompt to throw at least one of those options out of the cab. Even if Jane had brought some _Birr_ or an extra phone, she would find distributing something out of a driving car degrading towards these young men, despite the fact that they probably could use the money; who could not.

At a curve where Hannes has to go back and forth for quite some time in order to spare a fence from being run down, a knot of children gather around the truck as well and, encouraged by the teens, start to throw small clumps of soil against the windshield. While Hannes determinedly keeps working with the turn, Jane wonders whether she has got the right to feel offended, just because the shipping of the school furniture does not get appreciated well enough.

Then a pretty big chunk suddenly sails through the driver's window, passes Hannes, who either was not the target or not in the line of fire by chance, and passes Jane, who ducks as quick as a flash, her skills that she needs at the force and that have come in handy many times before fully intact.

Unfortunately, the mud clump smacks against Bacha's neck, who flinches appalled and then speechlessly examines the scattered pieces of dirt in Jane's and his lap. Impulsive and fueled by anger and shame that Bacha has taken the hit, Jane grabs the sticky soil and heaves it back at the thrower, a maybe 12-year-old boy, who, not because the impact was strong but in surprise, stumbles backwards. His foot catches on a root and he lands on his bottom ungracefully, having the older guys and all the children burst into laughter. Right then Hannes turns the wheel for the last time and they are on their way again.

Jane feels miserable, unsure what to make of the situation and whether she had handled it poorly in every sense. Hannes' and Bacha's wordlessness does not help either.

.

They do not reach the goldmine in Guji until late afternoon, for they get stuck in the road on their way there. Even though it had not been raining all day, the final part of the way up the hill where Guji is situated is nothing more than a big puddle and the truck simply too heavy to overcome the soaked ground. They are lucky that the monstrous vehicle does not slide back down the steep either.

Many people came, some bringing shovels, others gathering big stones to put them in front of the wheels so the truck would have some ground to grab at.

Two and a half hours of restless tries and it finally lurches forward, Hannes wordlessly beckons to his fellow co-travelers to quickly jump on the ride and by the time they roll into the miner's camp Jane apprehends that she might never experience the old carpentar in a fit of rage.

Assoon as Hannes' feet touch the ground he is surrounded by Ethiopians who know him or know someone who knows him, they greet him exuberantly and start chatting in _afaan_ _Oromo_. The benign smile Jane has come to love finds its way back to the corner of his mouth. A couple of minutes later a golf caddy pulls up and four tall, white men push through the crowd and call out to Hannes in loud English that sounds like Texas, London and Melbourne, saying they have been waiting forever for their order and that the visitors should get to a tent where there will be plenty of food. They pat Hannes on the shoulder like old comrades.

"You don't take care of your roads very well", is the first thing Hannes says to them, but the tallest of the guys just replies "Oh?" and guides the carpenter to the big tent. Jane cannot help but find them disturbing. She also cannot keep their names, cannot bring herself to care where they are from and how long they have been here. She only nods at them swiftly, and then follows Hannes, head down, trying not to give away her nationality. Maybe she is lucky and they mistake her for a Swede.

"You don't have _wot_?" Hannes asks as he lets his eyes sweep over the enormous buffet.

"Ain't got what what?" Maybe-Bob asks addlebrained, before he picks up a chicken wing that disappears almost entirely into his big mouth right after.

"Never mind", Hannes waves him away and Jane wonders if Maybe-Bob really does not realize that the older man is mocking him. An Ethiopian woman, who is dressed as a servant, comes in and brings a tall plate with _budena_ and _wot_ on it, having either heard or expected Hannes' request.

"Oh! You're talking about the Ethiopian pancakes", Maybe-Bob exclaims as if he has any idea.

The small group from Challiya finds a table and hungrily digs into the food that Jane has come accustomed to. It is not that the burgers, the chicken, pasta and pizza do not look delicious, it simply feels like the honest and loyal thing to do. Probably-Gary pulls up a chair next to Jane, sits on it the wrong way and opens up a cold bottle of beer, an American brand. He reeks of sweat and that's when Jane realizes that Hannes never does, even though he slogs away all day, wears his shirts for a week and she has not even seen a shower at his place.

"So, you're a detective from the States?" There goes her plan to stay in the shadows.

"Where'd you hear that?" Jane has the feeling she needs to stay guarded.

"Uh, you know, news travel fast over here. The Ethiopians keep track of all the white guys, I'm afraid. Anyway, gotta stick together out here, ain't that right?"

"Hm", Jane mumbles and tries to seem busy with the food. Sadly, the stranger does not seem put off at all.

"Pretty bolt move to bring a baby here, don't you think? Ever get scared something might happen to him?"

Jane shoots Hannes an alarmed and inquiring look, who gives the slightest shake of his head and all the answers Jane wanted. She turns back to the obnoxious guy and replies sharply, "That's none of your business and nothing I will discuss. Do you mind leaving this table as long as we eat?"

Probably-Gary chuckles and raises the hand that is not holding his beer, waving something that probably is supposed to mean 'alright, no need to get witty', but then he gets up and disappears without another word.

The school is a little further out, the crass descending road not muddy, but crossed by deep grooves. Bacha, the day laborer and Jane have climbed on top of the load, trying to keep the no longer strapped furniture from sliding off. In the end Jane's arms and legs are covered in bruises and contusions.

.

As the sun gets low, Hannes brings the truck to a stop and asks Bacha and the day laborer to look after it. He then says "come on" to Jane and waves her into the forest they parked at, which is one of his.

The last sun rays of the day weakly seep through the dense standing conifer and submerge everything into gray and blue colors. The ground is almost free of plant growth and by now Jane has learned that this is also a result of trees standing too close. Soon the carpenter school will be able to extract new timber from here. Not far from the edge of the forest Hannes settles on an old trunk and Jane mimics his action. He pulls a bag of sugar coated peanuts out of his vest and offers her the treats, which besides sugar cane are the only original sweets Jane has seen. And they are good.

"There are many good reasons, why these forests are needed here", Hannes begins, "but sometimes I get the impression I only planted them in order to have a place to go to where it feels like home."

Jane almost does not dare to question Hannes after what he just shared. Almost.

"Why didn't you tell me that all the stuff for the school is financed by the miners in order to bribe the people into giving up their land?"

"It wouldn't have changed anything about the shipment."

"Why not? How can you of all people not stand against something like this? 250 acres land will get floored, regardless of the farmers who live there, or if there are some of the last bits of primeval forest. And there'll be another 250 acres and another, in case they're not happy with the results of their fucking drilling samples. 30 miles next to that you are fighting for the preservation of the woods, trying to teach the people the importance of them, to protect and to value them, to plant a tree for each they take down, since the short rainy season has not come in two years and water gets less and less with every tree that disappears. _You_ taught me that, and yet-" She cannot bring herself to end the tirade Hannes patiently lets wash over him with some final accusation. She has taken this man to her heart, has come to respect him so much.

"I am aware of the ambivalence", the carpenter answers, rubbing a finger through his eyebrows and Jane notices that they look just as worn and alive as every other of Hannes' features. She waits expectantly.

"For years now our project only lives from month to month. What we produce in one, we will need and spend in the following. For the seedlings, the maintenance of the forests, to pay the foresters and the forest guards, for the carpenters and the teachers in our school, for our trainees. We depend on such contracts like the one with the miners, so our circuit stays sustainable. That also means we brush other circuits involuntarily, which sometimes stand against our goals for all intents and purposes."

"Not good enough", Jane mumbles, not wanting to look up from the ground.

"I know."

.

The rest of their route is covered in darkness. The road can be taken a lot faster now, leading down for the whole way. The jungle at night is impressive and threatening at the same time. Sheet lightning flicker constantly on the horizon. The sky is starless, draped with enormous clouds. Carefully they once again take the turn where the three young men and the group of children had occupied Jane's thoughts this morning. Her anger over that, however, has passed completely, her pondering and her frustration with the miners taking all the space.

As they reach the valley of the Dilla river, Hannes abruptly shifts into four-wheel drive and steps onto the gas so that the truck shoots forward and Jane's inquiry gets stuck in her throat.

"Hold on!" Hannes demands and a second later the truck breaks through a barricade of rocks that are positioned on the narrow road in equal intervals, blocking their way. Jane has not seen that coming.

The front wheels take off of the ground only to make a hard impact on the dusty road shortly after, the underside of the truck distinguishably grates over stone, an unhealthy creepy noise, before the rear wheels also violently burst against the chunks.


	14. The one where people die

**Chapter 14: The one where people die**

**.**

_**Challiya, market day and the last one of September 2015**_

_I found Hannes underneath the truck this morning, trying to fix the damage from last night. Which can't be pretty._

_Before we went to Guji yesterday, we've told Maura we'd be back after lunch. Maybe I shouldn't have trusted Hannes on this, I bet he counts time like an African and 10 minutes must mean one hour. I called when we got stuck in the mud, but until evening both our phone's batteries were dead. On the phone I had told her I'm sorry, and she said Alban and she are fine, he even ate his mashed carrots which we started feeding him a week ago without complaining, thank god. In the beginning he'd just twirl it around in his mouth, brows furrowed like he didn't know what to do with it. _

_Well, we came home so late, Maura had already called for Tayanne to watch Alban, had packed some bread and tea and went looking for us, she took Jabeessa along, the school's forester, so he could drive the pickup. They didn't have to go far, we met on the main road in Challiya, but Maura's clamping arms around my neck told me how nervous our late arrival had made her. Hannes mumbled some lame excuse, and for some reason I followed his lead and didn't tell Maura about the road block. I don't really know why, it didn't appear to be that dangerous. There weren't any people in sight next to that part of the road... though that's the whole point of a road block, I guess. Well._

_The teenagers that morning and the mine troubled me way more. I realized how difficult I find it to handle something that is _**not**_ being handled, to deal with things nobody acts on. I wish for clarity, more than ever in my life. _

_And I don't know much, in fact maybe nothing, about Hannes' strategies, or coping mechanisms. I actually wonder what kind of tree, pillow or hammer and nail ever has the privilege of experiencing an outburst, but in public his boiling anger will always stay under the surface. It amazes me and drives me crazy at the same time. I cannot read him, he doesn't let on about his thoughts and never explodes into other people's faces, even when that's all they deserve and are asking for._

_He's let me come close, though. Sitting there in one of his calm, dark forests, he didn't say what he likes about them specifically. If it's the kind of silence only woods carry, or the smell of the fir needles and the resin. The forest floor is covered with thousands of these needles and is extremely soft to the touch. Like a spring mattress. We could move soundlessly there. _

_Hannes did not speak of his childhood or youth in Sweden either – and neither does he talk much about his time in Ethiopia . But I get it. This place is sacred to him like the round hut kitchen is to Tayanne._

"_You got to listen first" is the only thing he ever said to me concerning any process of getting involved. _

_I'm trying._

_But. Something's not right over there in Guji, at least I'm not able to shake that feeling._

_After our late lunch at the mine we unbuckled the many layers of benches and tables to get out the sample boxes that have been stacked in between. We carried them to a roofed area where the drilling samples are being kept and to another one where they are being examined. Out of the latter greyish fluids were running down a sewer that leads downhill. That did not look healthy. _

_I decided to take a walk around the camp. There are white painted stones lining the paths that divide the district into different sectors. One for administration, one with small tents for the many Ethiopian workers, one with foreign looking bungalows for the mine owners, one is a landing place for a helicopter. Later that evening I asked Hannes what they need the helicopter for and he replied "To bring in more white stones from Addis, I believe."_

_It is absurd and infuriating how out of this world the camp looks and those self-centered dumb asses have no idea of and no interest in the people surrounding them, merely in the treasures they believe lie underground. _

_From a small terrace that must have been built as a viewpoint I had a good view of the mine, which is nothing more than a huge brown area. A scene of destruction. The head of the miners, Maybe-Bob, found me there and asked if I was snooping. He couldn't have said anything more suspicious with his stupid brazen smirk on his face._

_I asked Frankie and Nina if they could do a background check on those guys... even if it's just a gut feeling._

_Phew... on a better note: I had a really nice afternoon with Maura. I tried to make it up to her, being late and everything. Everything probably meaning my guilty conscience about leaving out the details._

_So, I made_ _a deal with Tayanne, who_ _laughed wholeheartedly as soon as I managed to explain that Maura and I would be doing the shopping on market day for her today, if she could watch Alban instead. But she agreed, leaving us with the task to buy a live rooster and said we should try to get back quickly, cause it looked like it'd rain soon._

_She was more than right about that. By the time we were one our way back, rooster under one arm and everything, we were soaked. No one is stupid enough to go out in this kind of weather. We tried, well, Maura managed and I tried, to find our way back over the slippery bumps in the road. They really look like humps, I guess it comes from the mud the feet carry around and at some point everyone just keeps stepping on them, so they grow and grow and make the camel-backed road._

_So, yeah, no need to guess – I slipped and landed ungracefully in one of the puddles between the bumps, the rooster fled, I tried to grab it, slipped again until not one inch of my body wasn't covered with red brownish water. And Maura? She just stood there laughing her head off._

_I swear, Barry, she is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. _

_I kissed her then. Had to. She was shivering, maybe we both were, and the droplets kept falling from her brows onto her lashes, creating small crystals that would dissipate after mere seconds and be replaced by new ones. The joy in her eyes that moment was... it is enough. It's like all I ever wanted, like something that can keep you alive to the end of the world, even if there was a lack of oxygen._

_I won't apologize for being so lofty, cause I've never felt this way. I've never known this. This is truth._

* * *

_**Challiya, Thursday 8th of October 2015**_

_Dear Barry,_

_I haven't written in a while and now that I see my last entry – I didn't even make that one out to you!? My head must've been somewhere else. Just like the last couple of days, I was quite busy with research and the results are infuriating. Can you believe that the Ethiopian government agreed to a deal that leaves them with 8% of the miner's profit? EIGHT percent! _

_I'm well aware of the circumstance that there are two sides to this, that they're letting this being done to them for god knows what reason, but for that lousy gain those idiots storm the land of farmers that definitely had no saying in this matter and build their stupid, fancy camps, bring in machines of all kinds, install huge satellite dishes, probably to watch porn all night, and fly by helicopter (!) to Addis twice a week so they get their beef and beer and shit. _

_I'm sorry, but this makes me so damn angry._

_._

_Anyway, that's not really what I wanted to talk about._

_Maura called me this morning, her voice thick with tears. I couldn't find Tayanne and didn't wanna take the time to ask anyone else to stop what they were doing and watch Alban – so I just put him in the baby carrier and took him with me. I'm not sure, if that was a mistake._

_A woman had been found under some coffee bushes outside the hospital this morning. Her newborn baby was lying in her arms as she slowly bled out. As soon as Maura realized it was, in fact, not some old story the staff was chatting about, but happening right then and there, she arranged for the young mother to be brought into the emergency room._

_Maura says, she had counted the steps from where they had found the woman all the way to where they started to work on her. 24. 24 steps and no one had interfered. Maura then called the pastor and asked for the financial support the woman might need and she knew the congregation would usually afford the patient fees in case someone couldn't. To her surprise, the pastor already knew about the woman – then again, that's really how it works here, news travel faster than emails and phone calls._

_He said she was an outlaw, had no husband, but given birth in shame. Therefore the church could and would not provide for her._

_The woman died on the table. And it's not looking good for the infant either. I found Maura at his bed on the child ward. She had draped some blankets around him, but that's all she could do. When she noticed me, and then Alban, she broke into tears and... and I wish I could have given us more privacy from all the families that were staying with their children in that very room, from their stares. Or actually I wish, I could change their minds, teach them a lesson and show them that... that love can't be restricted._

_But all I did was take her in my arms and let her calm down._

_._

_And there's another story that haunts me. A missionary from Sweden came here in the 1950s, much like Hannes he had been quite young, and worked as as pastor and a teacher on the compound that had yet to become the carpenter school. 20 years after hard work he had become a well respected man in Challiya – and fell in love with a German nurse. They married in Sweden, came back to Ethiopia to have a second wedding celebration and one day later, he crashed with his car in that narrow valley behind the house Maura and I live in. _

_They tried to get him to the hospital, but he died on they way. The news had traveled faster than his dead body. 2000 people attended his funeral – and the primary school in Challiya got named after him. I visited his grave the other day; it's overgrown with winter roses._

_The thing is, that's the official part of the story. The unofficial one says: He fell in love with an Ethiopian man, who had worked for him as a cook, and they lived together in secret for many years. Somehow the missionary center got wind of it and finally forced him to marry the young woman from Germany._

_Supposedly, the Ethiopian had been with him on the day that he died, but got out of the car that the Swedish missionary then drove down the steep._

_I guess, the difference isn't that at home we don't have these kind of conservative, tradition confined ways of thinking and living. The difference is we can choose from a large pool of people, we don't have to surround ourselves with friends and families who disapprove of our life style. There might be sacrifices in many cases, but there's a life possible beyond that._

_That's not what it was like for the missionary and there was no option for the young woman today either._

_So, what are we doing and... and what are we risking? Kissing each other in the middle of the main road? _

_._

_Death really does interrupt things over here. An hour ago some men came to the school's compound, they carried the body of the woman I told you about. Hannes didn't even think twice before loading her in the back of one of the Land-rovers. She's supposed to get buried in her home village, but the roads are bad, even worse due to the recent rain, not many people have the skills to drive to the remote areas. Hannes asked a mason to come, too, so they could build a grave as well._

_I'm glad it's them taking care of her now. Seems right the way everything's gotta be left so they can bring this to a dignified end. Nothing else about her death was._

_Now, only the little boy is left after this disaster._

_Maura will stay with him tonight._

* * *

**A/N: So, the ones of you who are really reading this story, could you please let me know what you think? Thx! **


	15. The one that is threatening

**A/N: Wow! I didn't think my last A/N would make such a difference – 13 reviews/PMs!? I never got so many on a single chapter before. I'm really grateful; your opinions matter a lot.**

**To the guest who gave me the prompt to write something from Maura's POV: I'm working on that. It'll probably be in Chapter 18.  
Sweetkid54: I'll also try to make it more clear, why Maura chose to go back to Ethiopia in that Chap.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 15: The one that is threatening**

.

"He has no other options!" The woman is almost shouting by now.

"Are you sure about that?" Jane barely misses the slight shake of Maura's head. "You said it yourself, you always had the ability to be technical about such things. Why are you getting so emotional now?" Jane really tries to ask open questions, but she can see they are hurting Maura.

"No, you said it yourself! I'm not that person anymore." And then Maura is firing back. "What if it was Alban lying in that hospital all on his own. You'd also tell me to let him die?"

"That's not fair, Maur', and you know it." Jane's voice has receded to a hoarse whisper.

"No, it's not. Nothing has been concerning that little boy's short time on earth."

"That applies to so many children – where will you stop once you've started this?" Jane feels herself resign more and more by the minute. She does not know whether Maura is convincing her or she has simply nothing left in her to fight this woman anymore. "I just think children shouldn't be ripped out of their natural environment, no matter how young."

"You make it sound like a plant!" Maura scoffs and takes Jane aback with her pure anger and even an obvious sense of superiority. "Plus, you're the one who took Alban away from home."

"But he's here with his mothers", Jane cannot help the waver in her voice as Maura hits this sensitive subject.

"I can be a mother", Maura says, hurt written all over her own features.

"Yes, you can", Jane answers earnestly. "To Alban." And then Maura realizes that the other woman has said _mothers_ and her cheeks redden, her breathing fastens.

"How in the world are we supposed to make a life or death decision, Maura?"

"But that is exactly my point. If no one takes care of him, he will die."

"Maybe, but if you take him in, then you are making a grave decision on his life, one that will have a huge impact."

"Yes, it will change the fact that he will actually _live_ a life."

"But that's not all, is it? He will have that cliche of a 'rescued, poor boy' hanging over him and in addition by some white and gay couple, who either took pity on him, or couldn't afford anything else, or both." Maura is gazing at Jane in shock and the detective hesitates shortly, contemplating if it was the word 'gay' or 'couple' that freaked her friend out. Jane has never used those words for them before.

"That's how the world will see him. Why put that kind of burden on him?" She adds carefully.

"Don't you call diversity a burden!" Maura is pointing her finger at Jane now, furious and her eyes glistening with enragement and unshed tears. "Every child grows up with challenges, it's what we make of them that decides what kind of life we're living."

Jane realizes that Maura has stumbled over a completely different subject and more so, she understands that her friend is right. Maura _has_ to believe what she just said, otherwise the way she is living, the hope she has for her own life story would probably shatter. Actually, Jane thinks, that applies to both their lives.

A knock on the door interrupts the heated argument and Maura looks at Jane in mild panic.

"Please give us a minute", Jane calls out and nods at her friend apologetically, who is wiping at her eyes in a hurried attempt to look collected and presentable. But then the door is being pushed open, forcefully so. It knocks into the nearby shelf and some books tumble out of it. Jane notices Maura jump out of the corner of her eye and then another person is pointing an accusing finger at her, advancing fast and coming almost too close to not shrink back.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" The guy barks into her face. It is Maybe-Bob, the head of the goldmine, his face is crimson red and he is sweating all over the place. His second in command, Something-with-J, is also with him. Jane knows their names now, they all do, but she prefers to call them that way, denying them to be worth of the real ones.

Before Jane engages in another argument, her thoughts go to her son, wondering why Alban has not woken from his nap in the other room, despite the loud noises around the house, and does not cry for someone to come. Maura appears to have shared her worries and is already moving into the boy's direction, but Something-with-J blocks the entrance to Jane's room.

"Let her through, you bastard!" Jane fumes, but Maybe-Bob grabs her by the back of her shirt and pulls her back before she can go for his colleague.

"Not until we you swear to get off our backs!" He shouts, but lets go of Jane as soon as he comes face to face with her. The tall woman is the one raising a finger now, which unmistakably says 'Touch me again and I'll break your nose'.

"I knew there'd be trouble as soon as I heard you were staying at this compound." Maybe-Bob fails miserably at his attempt to sound reasonable and yet Jane wonders briefly whether they actually might come to an agreement at the end of this discussion that leaves all parties satisfied.

Briefly.

"And when it became clear that you'd be accompanying the shipment of our order, we even tried to scare you off."

Behind her Jane can hear Maura gasp in surprise, which also makes her strain her ears to listen for any signs from Alban again, but the five-month-old still has not called out for them. It is nagging at old wounds and unanswered questions. Why did he not react to the tension around him? And in case he was awake, why would he not get more desperate by the minute for someone to come like any other child? How could he accept to be left alone?

The detective tries to shake off her concern and concentrate on the task at hand. She furrows her brows at Maybe-Bob's strange confession and then it dawns on her.

"You tried to spook us by breaking into our house to open some doors and break a toy?" She asks incredulously.

"Well, not just that. And that night the idiot was supposed to do more as well, but had too flee, 'cause he woke you."

"He didn't wake us. A _bat_ did." Jane says to point out the absurdity of that story, still trying to wrap her head around why Maybe-Bob was actually telling her this. Were his brains really that limited?

"So, the guys who harassed us on the way to Guji and the road block...", Jane ponders on, "you organized that, too?"

She is met with two questions.

"Oh, did the villagers give you a hard time?" Maybe-Bob snorts in badly mimicked false sympathy and Maura asks "What road block?", sounding heartwarming innocent and Jane feels badly for not telling her all over again. For now, she has to ignore the smaller woman, sending Maybe-Bob a demanding look, since he has not answered her question, yet.

"They're just pissed with any white people who come their way", he shrugs.

"I bet", Jane states, having switched to interrogation mode. "They wouldn't be in their right mind, if they're not getting angry at scumbags like you."

"They can't even count to ten. They'll get over it."

"Oh, so this is funny to you? You leave them witheight percent! How can anyone have a clear conscience while ripping off a whole country like that? And I know you're using mercury just like you did in Asia at the other three mines you've built? How many people did you already kill for the fucking money you made? And how many more are to die, cause you can't even do your job properly, but leave a poison that'll ruin the life of many generations, not to mention the destruction of nature. The mercury that gets into the air will affect your life as well, no matter if you'll leave this country at some point!"

Jane's speech is suddenly interrupted by Maura's hand on her arm, pulling her around softly. Hannes, Bacha and the guard from the gate, his rifle at hand, have entered the guesthouse. The old carpenter does not even consider to speak in full sentences.

"Off this property immediately!"

The guard raises his weapon, looking so dangerously serious that Jane pushes Maura to one side of the room.

And then everything is over as quickly as it had begun. The detective and the doctor are left with many open questions and an uneasy feeling as the school's residents escort the unbidden visitors out of their house.

.

In the afternoon, they feel the urge to do something completely different, to stop thinking about the miners or the little boy. Just for a couple of hours.

So they start a new book.

It is a romantic novel by a female West African author, a type of book Jane has never read before, though it is her who picks it from the seventeen books Maura has brought. She sits on the bed to read the back cover, Alban at her side makes funny noises, both of them waiting for Maura to finally join them. It has been a while now since they carried Maura's whole bed to Jane's room. To both of them it feels like everything between them gets more and more serious with each of those steps.

Jane opens the first page and a picture of her former partner slips out. She recognizes him immediately, even though she only gets a glimpse of the photograph for merely a second, before it is coming to lie face down on her stomach. She doesn't know, if she should touch it.

It is too late to decide, whether to hide her discovery from her friend or not, because the other woman slides in beside her just then, scooping Alban up in the process. A moment later Maura realizes what has happened and stops breathing, which Jane notices even though she is still staring at the first page of the book.

"Don't you have a better picture of him?" The question that breaks the silence sounds awful in Jane's ears once she asked it. Alban suddenly catches one edge of the paper on Jane's stomach, rumpling that part immediately. Maura gently unclenches his small fist and carefully smooths out the photo again.

It is Frost's profile picture from the BPD website. He looks younger than Jane remembers him and is wearing a beard. She finds he looks nothing like the cop or friend she knew.

"I do have other photographs of Barry", Maura answers, sounding a little bit offended. "I printed this one out, since they were going to take his profile down at some point. I didn't want it to just disappear."

Jane is stunned by the doctor's reply. She takes the picture from her friend's hand and places it against the still unread page of the brand new book. It is something like a closed story of a person's life against an open one of many others. Except then it is not. Nothing about Barry seems finished, and although she doesn't know the people's stories in the novel, here they are, black on white, completed and never extending past their confines of the 376 pages.

"You never told me, what it was like there at the scene. I can't imagine what it must have been like, being the first one to know."

Maura does not say _you didn't ask_ or _why do you want to know now?_ One year later. They both tried to be sensitive to their individual ways and time of grieving and early in that process they agreed to always let each other ask questions about their friend's death, not letting themselves be stopped by the fear it could be the wrong moment or choice of words. Jane is glad that still seems to apply.

"They actually called me to the scene, before his credentials had been checked," Maura starts her story and Jane knows she has not been able to listen to this before. She knows, each one of Maura's words cracks something open, a crust of denial, distance and defense, until not only the content, but also the tone, the question marks, the description of every picture as well as the silence in between the sentences are finding their way to sink in.

And she knows, even though something is breaking, that it is finally starting to heal.

And she knows, only Maura can do that.


	16. The one where stories get told

**Chapter 16: The one where stories get told**

**.**

**_Challiya, 13th of October 2015_**

_She heard about a car crash from an officer over the phone. She drove there, because it was her job and for no other reason._

_She parked somewhere behind the police tape, as usual, and flashed her ID to the officer guarding that barrier between involved and uninvolved people, that line which marks our job and means knowledge and participation and divides us from the ones who're just gazing over curiously and then move on..._

_Another officer approached her before she could get to the body that was lying in the middle of the scene, a blanket draped over it. He told her the name of the casualty. _

_It was your name. _

_She didn't believe him, but didn't say so either, just went on. She crouched down on her heels and peeled the blanket back without hesitating._

_But it was you, it really was. _

_You were dead and you are ever since._

_She couldn't take her eyes off of your badly broken skull. She had to fight the urge to touch the open wound that wasn't oozing anymore, but still looked wet and fresh. She wondered, if it'd be her to examine you later._

_She then heard the sirens we arrived with and she said, she doesn't know what made her think so clearly, had her react so quickly, but on impulse she drew the blanket back over your face before any of us could get a glimpse, stood and came over to us, shaking her head, looking serious, sad and regretful. _

_I knew right then, that it was true. I could see it in her eyes._

_There's nothing you can do, was what she said. And she was right, so damn right that I wanted to hate her for that, but after all it was the only thing that was _**right**_ that moment. _

_Right then I knew. I knew I wouldn't ask for the exact circumstances, wouldn't ask about the other driver and learn about if or if not it had been somebody's fault. Last night Maura told me that she had made that same decision, even though we never spoke about it. _

_We never did. Until now. _

_She delegated everything. The handling of your body as well as the report. Can you believe that? Cause... even though I never wanted to know – and I still don't – I somehow always thought Maura must be thinking differently about your death, because of what she's seen and learned about it. I explained her reactions, her sorrow with this made up idea about what she knew that I didn't._

_It's been like this for a long time, Barry. Too long. You know me, I can cough up the basics of good communication skills if some sensitivity-training-lady comes by, but that's not what had happened here. It wasn't about _**knowing **_how to do it better... or differently at least. _

_It was about not _**wanting**_ to do it better. And I'm still figuring out the reasons for that and I guess I did some good figuring the last couple of weeks, but last night…_

_Last night, Maura and I rediscovered something that we've once already had. The trust that in telling each other our stories, we'd be able to dig through everything much better, faster and _**together**_. We'd been so comfortable around each other with that and because of that. And we were again, yesterday._

_And I realized that I cannot – under no circumstances – stop telling my story, because it doesn't only belong to me. That's a false conclusion with which I kept fooling myself. It is my story to tell, yes, but it's not mine. And not only since Alban came into this world, but whenever I interacted with people and especially with the ones close to me, to whom I connect, whom I influence in whatever way... I guess I finally get an idea of that quote from Rushdie about being everyone that affected me and everyone whom I affected._

_I want you to know, that I'm not gonna stop telling our story, Barry. No matter if it hurts or if I feel like people don't get it, because they often won't. And can't. But that's not the reason to tell it, so they'd understand. I have to tell it, cause I loved you, and I want to remember that. I want to feel that. And I won't let it bother me that people might get bored or pity me, cause to them it seems like I can't snap out of something. _

_Our story will never get boring and I will never feel sorry for it. I will not let it be confined by anything like that._

_Promised._

_._

_I couldn't halt there, yesterday, and I won't now. I had to ask Maura about the day that my son was born, because that had been the second huge event that happened last year – and the second one I've tried to push... somewhere._

_So, this is for you, Alban._

_I had been in false labor all week, but then, the night from Sunday to Monday around 11 PM my water broke – or at least that's what I thought. I remember Maura telling me that it was time to go, but I almost have no recollection of how I felt or reacted. _

_I'm sorry for that, little one. I'm sorry, I zoned out here and there. I guess, I was overwhelmed... or scared. Both, actually. All that time waiting for you I more and more got the feeling that you coming into this world would be the most irreversible thing that would ever happen to me. _

**And**_ to you as a matter of fact. So, naturally, it'd be the most important event as well and I kinda thought 'How will I not screw this up?'. How does anyone not screw this up!? And I've seen people screwing up their children, believe me. Maybe too many._

_I felt like that when the time comes I'd have to put in lots and lots of effort in order to offer you … everything, really. And then you somehow just happened. To me, to yourself, to this world. And somehow it seems I didn't do anything – so how to deserve you?_

_I remember street lights flying by. Maura said I seemed calm and collected, during the ride and the first examination. The nurse explained my water had – in fact – not broken, but that I've had a rupture of the membranes (sorry, I can feel Maura's influence on talking so technically about this so very un-technical process, I swear, I will spare you the rest of the medical details), and that the delivery was very likely to happen within 24 hours. They assigned us to a room and thanks to Maura's connections she was allowed to stay with me. My water broke only half an hour after that, but the nurses (that kept checking every hour) didn't say it was time until late morning._

_They pushed me into the delivery room around 11:30 AM and even though I don't remember each and every step of it – I can still see the midwife, two nurses and two doctors that were crowding the room standing by for the C-section, when I close my eyes. 'It's not going to get out naturally', was what that midwife said and somehow that statement made me nauseous. _

_Everything about you is natural, Alban._

_The contractions kept getting stronger, so my retort got stuck somewhere, but Maura handled it by requesting a second opinion. They told us we would get that anyway, because the shift was about to change and so, thankfully, half an hour later all those people left the room and the new midwife declared that you were not in distress, therefore she would like to try this._

_Trying was all I could grasp on in the long four hours that followed. Every time I thought I had nothing left in me to continue, Maura would talk to me – not too soft, but not demanding either – and that midwife, whom I grew very fond of (her name was Margret, by the way – maybe you'd like to know, since she was the first person to ever hold you; and I'm glad that it was her, cause she really knew what she was doing). Margret suggested different positions, again and again, which made you turn the exact right way. Her knowledge about this inner process still amazes me._

_When she said we were almost done, I thought she was only trying to encourage me, but she'd been right and I held you in my arms only minutes later. You wailed once, looked around a little, not seeing much I guess, and then you fell asleep. You weighed seven pounds and were 18,8 inches short._

_Maura said the midwife and the nurses were astonished by how we've handled everything. Her relentless support and that I apparently didn't cry out once. I actually thought that to be quite normal, cause I felt too constricted. At times I wasn't even sure, I got all the necessary oxygen in, so how was I supposed to let even more out!?_

_The staff had cheered when they heard that we didn't know your gender, some of them winning a bet as it became clear you were a boy. There were tears in Maura's eyes (she said I teared up as well – who will blame me!?) as I gave the nurse your name for the certificate that reads 4:21 PM as the time of your birth. That very moment on that April's afternoon had been the beginning of you as Alban._

_I know, I belong to a church that advertises life is life at conception – and I felt that, I felt how alive you were, especially when you started to use my insides as a trampoline, preferably my bladder.  
\- But: There'd been a week when I almost lost you. I've had cramps due to an... injury and had to stay on bed rest for eight days. The doctors weren't sure, you'd stay were you belonged at that time. And back then I decided, that I didn't wanna know too much about you. About your gender, or the extra nose you might have had. I told them to prep me if the NICU would be the first place we'd have to stay after your birth – but regardless of the specific condition you'd come in. Can you understand that, Alban?_

_If I had to lose you, I wanted to know as little as possible about you. It's about not having to tell a very long story of something that painful, even though that's kind of selfish._

_But if you came to stay, then I just wanted that _**one**_ story – no matter how it started or ended – just that one specific Alban-story. I didn't need to know about any other possible scenarios._

_That's about it. I've just read it again – I've remembered more than I thought. And reading it everything is a lot clearer than it was before. Yeah, this is it, the story of your birth. Nothing too extraordinary and yet the most extraordinary thing I can imagine. I'm glad it got this exact place in my diary, so that life follows death._

_We got it. We got our story, little one. It's a good one, too._

_All my love to you, Alban and Barry,_

_Jane_

* * *

**A/N:This chap is very close to my heart - please let me know what you think of it. Is there something you find unresolved concerning Frost's death?**

Here is the beautiful quote from **Salman Rushdie** (Sam and the Tiger):

I am the sum  
total of everything that went before me,  
of all I have been seen done,  
of everything done-to-me.  
I am everyone  
everything whose being-in-the-world affected  
was affected by mine.  
I am anything that happens after I'm gone  
which would not have happened if I had not come.  
[...]


	17. The one where it gets serious

**A/N: I want to get something off my chest: Why do some of you keep saying that it is out of character for Jane to go to Ethiopia?**

**Maura is a woman of the world, Jane is relying deeply on her relationship to Maura until she even realizes that she is in love with her (which btw is AU too, and none of you complain about that being out of character) – why wouldn't she follow her friend?**

**This story is all about Jane realizing that the loss of her partner has impacted her so deeply that she has put a distance between herself and the people she is close to, even to her own son (Bianca: which is the reason why they both behave the way they do around each other). Her decision to follow Maura to Ethiopia wasn't a rational one (and had nothing to do with going somewhere where you could 'help poor people', which should never be your first and only motivation if you want to travel somewhere you haven't been before). **

**She was grasping at straws, trying to keep someone close when she felt like she was losing them all. I want to delve into that in Chap 18 (like I said), but the comments kind of bothered me. Please let me know your thoughts to this or to Jane's reasons of visiting Ethiopia. I would love to include and answer them in the next Chapter.**

**I am thankful for every one who took the time to review this story so far.**

**All the best! J**

* * *

**Chapter 17: The one where it gets serious**

.

The rainy season is gone and despite the still very green land Jane has almost forgotten what it felt like to be cold at night, or to have thick clouds covering the sky that would spend some shade.

Since long the roads have recovered from the deep mud holes and the forester Jabeessa, "the strong one", has started traveling again, visiting towns and villages in even more rural areas than Challiya, giving lectures to teachers, nurses and farmers about preserving the old woods and planting new forests.

Today he has to go to Dilla, a town that carries the same name as the river Jane has already crossed once on her way to the goldmine in Guji. Hannes sends them with the forester, says it would be worth it and that they should just make sure to be back before nightfall. Jane nods knowingly and Maura shakes her head, trying to give her the cold shoulder for a moment as she climbs into the double passenger seat where Alban is already buckled in with his car seat. Jabeessa has the engine running so Jane climbs into the back of the pick up and finds a seat upon the spare tire that is lying there. She can understand that Maura is still angry with them, because they kept quiet about the road block in the Dilla valley.

They wave Hannes and Simon goodbye and then they are on their way.

.

In Dilla Jabeessa sends them with some children and they wander off to a nearby water fall. Maura carries Alban on her right hip, his weight supported by a cotton sling. The countryside is entrancing and the older children dive into the shallow water of the Dilla river. Jane follows them, eager to get a refreshment from the powerful midday sun and motivated by the children's joyful cheers. Maura does not want to join them, says she has read too many stories about flesh eating bacterias.

Whenever Jane lets herself drift off with the current the children tell her no and make hectic signs. Later she will ask Jabeessa if it is because of the hippos that sleep underwater where the river gets deeper during the hottest time of the day. However, Jabeessa speaks almost no English and does not get her question. When she draws a hippo into her diary to show it to him, he asks "Ox in water?", which has Maura laughing so hard that Jane blushes and pushes the book back into her bagpack.

They play tag. The children are diving and shouting in delight as they are trying to get out of Jane's reach, but the detective is too tall and too fast. As Jane glances over to the bank where Maura stands her friend is excitedly pointing at a little girl who has grabbed her wrist and studies the scene of the swashing people both in awe and fear. Right then the girl notices of whom she has gotten hold off in her dreamy state and jumps to the side, smiling shyly at the doctor.

This must be right, Jane thinks.

.

They can almost keep their promise. A flat tire has cost them some time, but they are on the road again as the sun touches the horizon, only ten miles left.

Alban is asleep in his seat, so Maura has joined Jane in the back of the pickup where they can watch the setting sun. Many people are sitting in front of their huts alongside the road, they chat and boil _wot_ over small fires. They jump up when they hear the car and as soon as they see the two women in the back they cheer and wave, and Maura and Jane wave back as night quickly settles.

But then headlights appear in the distance. Soon, Jane discovers that the other vehicle is driving on a smaller side road. It is accelerating strikingly fast. After a while both of the roads shortly run parallel and when Jane hears the other car's engine howl, she knows that the strange driver is up to no good and will get too close to them as soon as their paths will cross.

Agitated she knocks against the glass to the driver's cab, she can already see the crossover in the pickup's upper beam. She knows they will be doomed if the forester does not step on the breaks.

"Jabeessa, stop!" Jane bellows and feels Maura's hand on her upper arm, nails digging into the naked skin.

Jabeessa does stop. A 100 feet ahead the other car turns onto the main road full tilt, the driver changes course pulling the wheel around and stepping on the breaks. The vehicle almost turns on the spot about-face. Plenty of dust swirls up and for a moment nothing but the lutescent illuminated dirt cloud can be seen. Then the headlights of the unknown emerge from the dust and shoots towards the still standing pickup.

Jane jumps down from the back and sprints to the front, growling like a wild animal and seems just as helpless as she raises both hands, trying to stop the inevitable impact. During the few passing seconds she can make out the gigantic bumper of the completely black Land Rover racing her way and she suspects she cannot make more than a fine, dark silhouette in front of the pickup's headlights. Moments before the impact she gets pulled out of the line of fire, though. She hits the ground, hard, then rolls down the small steep alongside the road, scraping up her bare arms on sticks and stones.

There is a ear-battering bang and then the pickup also follows downhill, overturning three times.

Jane lets out a strangled, anguished scream. It feels like someone is ripping out her heart right then and there. Some part of her brain still registers that there is the sound and lights of another car on the road which moments later just passes them quickly, and Jane curses inwardly that Ethiopia at night means everyone for him- or herself.

She jumps off the ground and starts for the crashed pickup that has been their ride only mintues prior to this incident. However, her feet catch on something and she stumbles again, barely breaking her fall with her hands. In a second she realizes it is Maura, lying in the grass and now holding the side where Jane's foot must have rammed into her.

"They're not in there", Maura gasps in pain, but Jane cannot make sense of anything.

"What?"

"Jane!" Maura warns and then the detective notices the flashlight beams that come their way.

"You just don't know when to back off, do you, detective?" It is Maybe-Bob's voice and Jane bets her shirt on it that Probably-Gary, Rick-or-Dick and Somthing-with-J are right behind him.

"Applies to you even better", she scoffs, finally standing and trying to look at least a little bit menacing, but that does not stop Maybe-Bob from advancing on her and whip her over the head with his flashlight so forcefully that she hits the ground yet again. Maura cries out for her and scrambles around to gather Jane in her arms, but the taller woman is already kneeling again, trying to get up and shield her friend.

She does not come far, though, starts swaying to the right instead, involuntarily pressing her hands to the side of her head where the metal handle had hit her, trying to decrease the throbbing underneath her skull. Maura puts a hand to her shoulder, but stays in the shadow Jane casts, afraid for both their lives. Night has fallen by now, leaving the countryside pitch black except for the flashlights and the Land Rover up on the road.

"Go check the pickup", Maybe-Bob orders and there is shuffling in the dark and then the sound of a car door opening until suddenly the other guy calls back "There's no one in here", before he returns.

"So what's your smart plan, Bobbie?" Jane asks through gritted teeth. "My department knows I'm investigating you. You won't get away with letting us disappear." The courage seeping through her while she tries to believe what she just said gets knocked out of her again as the guy who went to check on the remaining two passengers and is probably Probably-Gary steps in front of the light and tosses Alban's empty car seat at her. Jane is not sure, whether it drains her energy out of relief or fear for her son.

"Maybe not", Maybe-Bob agrees and Jane can hear that he is sure of himself, savoring each of his own words. He takes his time before continuing to speak with her and sends away two of the guys to look for Jabeessa and the baby. Jane prays to god that the forester knows his way around the bush better than these thugs.

"But you are a clever woman in a quite vulnerable position", he continues ultimately. "So tell me, detective, would you risk having your sons bones be broken over pinning me down on some foul deal?"

Jane is growling again. "I'll drag your ass to an international court and so help me g-"

"Your son's bones will still be broken", Maybe-Bob interrupts her calmly. "Until we find him, shall we start with her?"

In a split second the other man emerges from the shadows and comes for Maura, but the women are faster. Jane rams into Maybe-Bob with all her might, motivated by the fact that she has seen no weapon on him and only two of these bastards stayed with them, and Maura throws a hand full of dirt into Rick-or-Dick's face before she goes for his throat with a blow that once almost got her convicted for murder. Rick-or-Dick sinks to his knees in shock, desperately gasping for air, wheezing as if he is having an asthma attack.

All the while Jane and Maybe-Bob have tumbled further down the steep, struggling in a pile of limbs until the gold digger surprisingly unerring punches his fist against the same spot on Jane's head where he has hit her before. Jane slumps to the side and is momentarily stunned, cannot make out much despite some aggravated voices nearby. As her vision clears she has to find Maura in Maybe-Bob's grip and to her horror Jane just came around to witness Rick-or-Dick deliver a revengeful, brutal blow to the pit of the doctor's stomach.

Jane can hear the air leaving Maura's body, making her the one fighting for oxygen and the smaller woman collapses to the ground as soon as Maybe-Bob's restraining arms let go of her. If that is not enough the other guy draws his leg back and kicks Maura in the ribs. Jane comes to understand that he definitely is a dick. A deep cough and a pained grunt can be heard from the woman that is writhing on the dusty floor, as she is still struggling to get decent a breath.

Jane is boiling with fury. Disregarding her dizzy state, she scrambles to her feet for the hundredth time that evening and slashes at their opponents. This time she does not hear the other car coming, she hears none of the many footsteps or different screams, loud orders and curses that would require to be distinguished otherwise. She cannot stop fighting until somebody lifts her off of Maybe-Bob's motionless body, saying "it's over", over and over again.

As soon as Jane takes in a little less panicked breath the fog clouding her mind slowly lifts. She can make out people, who are standing over the miners that she has not knocked unconscious, the two that went looking for Jabeessa and Alban are amongst them, too. More strangers are binding their hands behind their backs. Then Hannes suddenly kneels down in her line of vision and recognition sets in, she sees Bacha and Simon now and a few of the hospital's staff, some of them are examining the wreckage of the pickup, some search the bushes for something, some are surrounding something she can't see, but that seems to be on the ground and right then an intense fear for Maura hits Jane again.

"Where's your son, Jane?" Hannes asks tentatively, shaking her out of her paralyzed state.

"I don't know", Jane confesses and then she doubles over and looses her dinner.

Hannes does not tend to her. He bows down, grabs Maybe-Bob and drags his dead weight over to the other miners that are being held captive now. The tall guy in his grip stirs and asks something like "How'd'you" and Hannes bristles: "News don't only travel your way."

She then hears the carpenter call out something in _afaan_ _Oromo_ a couple of times, recognizes only Jabeessaa's name in it. It seems like magic to her, when a dark figure finally emerges from the night, coming from the other side of the road where the two miners had not even considered searching. Jabeessa carries Alban in his arms.

Jane comes to stand on shaking knees, presses her baby boy to her chest as soon as he is in her arms, her lips on his forehead, hot tears mingling with the ones of her son, who is finally crying. When she starts looking for Maura, she finds that Hannes has picked her up and is about to bring her over to the hospital's car. The doctor is holding her side, her eyes squeezed shut and her head resting against Hannes' shoulder. Jane hurries to meet his pace.

"How is she?"

"Let's get you two to the hospital. Then we'll see."

Jane has never seen the old man that angry and scared.


	18. The one where home is

**A/N: Many of your reviews have complimented this story in a way that I feel like my thoughts – which are expressed from Jane's AND Maura's point of view in this particular chapter – mean something. Thank you for that.**

**I am sorry for testing your patience with this update.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 18: The one where home is**

**_._**

**_Challiya, 23rd of October 2015_**

_I admire Maura's discipline. She keeps taking a very deep breath every five breaths even though it obviously hurts like hell. She looks worn out, yet doesn't rest much, sits upright in bed or keeps walking in circles in our living room for as long as she can stand. It'd drive me nuts if she weren't well advised to do so._

_She hates it when I make her laugh. Yet, I feel we're well advised to do so. That night, when Hannes brought us to the hospital, scared the shit out of me. Maura was whimpering miserably for the whole ride and Alban – for once – wouldn't stop crying. He hadn't before. Not a single wail throughout the whole ordeal. Nothing. When Jabeessa had brought him up to me, Alban had gazed around critically, but he hadn't made a noise... until he was in my arms._

_For the first time in my life, I had been grateful for that. My son might be a little closed off, but in addition to Jabeessa's bravery and quick thinking (whose name suited him better than ever that night) being exactly the way he is might as well have saved his life._

_Maura hates it even more that she can't hold Alban right now. Or the other little one for that matter._

_Before we went to Dilla, Maura visited the village where Hannes took the body of the little boy's mother. She found out that the woman's name had been Belainesh Na'ol and that she had worked on a farm before she got visibly pregnant and got send away. Na'ol should traditionally be the woman's father's name, but no one knew about any relatives being alive. Only back in Challiya, when Maura talked about that name and wondered why she had never heard of it, Hannes explained that it was, in fact, Amharic, not Oromo language, meaning 'more than me'. Maura thinks it sounds like at least that man who bore the name must have been loved by his mother. And Hannes said it might also be an explanation for a complicated family situation, since Oromos and Amhares don't usually mix._

_We have found a woman who'd stay with the boy whenever we can't (of course we're paying her), like when we went to Dilla and during nights. He'll be discharged next week if he keeps improving. He's gained enough weight by now thanks to the formula Maura was feeding him and his lungs seem to have fully inflated by now._

_Maura silently asked me to be with him for a while, too. So I did. Quite a few hours actually, over the last couple of days. I don't care too much for that hospital. Or hospitals in general. _

_It's much harder to imagine to leave him behind once you start spending time with him. Maybe impossible._

_This morning, Maura asked me another thing, which initially became the reason to scribble my thoughts down again: She asked me bring her her journal. As I did, with Alban on my hip, he managed to knock it out of my hand and it fell face down onto the floor next to our beds. I picked it up, turned it and Maura immediately noticed that I couldn't stop looking. The word 'home' stood out. I got overwhelmed with an almost desperate need to know._

_Yeah, she noticed. And said she had been thinking about showing it to me anyway and that this might be the best time to do so. I wanna copy the part that is most important to me. For all our time here, and it feels as if we spent only moments apart, I have no idea when Maura filled all those pages._

_From Maura's journal:_

The last couple of weeks I was afraid I might have been merely chasing an image of myself, an imprint on my memory of who I was and how I have been whenever I came to Ethiopia. Despite all the time that has passed. In point of fact, a lot of time has passed. I am significantly older. I have changed.

I have got a life in Boston now. A life which is full and rich and even though it still mostly consists of work, and I have always loved my profession, I am thriving. I am profoundly proud of what I do, of whom I work with. My colleagues became friends and family. My house became a home.

Until we lost someone, and someone else again.

I realize now, that, since I felt I could not afford to lose another person, I have been seeking for two things. The first one had become the cognizant motivation to book the flight to Ethiopia. I wished to spend quality time with Jane and Alban. I was mesmerized, maybe even a little shocked, when she agreed. That equals the amount of how much I doubted our relationship, and how little I believed in my part in it.

The second reason accompanies this state of mind. It only became apparent to me over time. I believe I felt that everything Challiya has meant to me over the past two decades might be the last existing anchor I could get a grasp at. One last preserved piece of a good life for me that had started to slip away in Boston.

Perhaps we _did_ have to come here to make sense of the forces that had made us drift apart. However, Jane and I are not making up for lost time or poor interactions with each other, because there is an untouched treasure here that simply has ripple effects on us.

Not in the slightest. We are healing, because we are making something – everything, in fact – out of what we are given; because we act together again, we are listening to one another. Challiya is a beautiful place and has been good for us, but what feels like home, is what we have come to create with each other.

I am positive, the most certain I might ever be. Our home, our family, our love have settled in the space between us.

.

_For different reasons we are the same, I guess._

_We get scared, we loose trust, we retreat. We both find it easier at times to not rely on anybody, and to not have anybody rely on us. I get lost somewhere fearing the effort and the possibility of coming up empty handed in the end. I'm afraid of loosing, end up stopping myself to try winning, end up gaining nothing but more mistrust. _

_Maura is afraid of any kind of loss, too. Especially now, that she got a taste of what life can be. That she so easily believes she might not be worth the effort and that my mechanisms only serve to support her theory makes me want to slap both her and me. _

_But that option is gone. There is no room left for doubting reliability. It is gone, because Alban came into our lives, yes, but I feel like it's no option for her and I, for our relationship, either anymore._

_She is right about this place, too. I'm not sure it... or I would have come to this point if I had stayed in my old confines in Boston. All the things I wouldn't even know I've missed if I hadn't come here. Sure, our trip to Dilla got kinda ruined by the miners, kinda overwritten. Still. Two broken and a couple of fractured rips and my mild concussion later, I still want to try and put that aside and think back to the point where Maura and I sat in the back of that pickup..._

_Traveling like that, with the wind in my hair, the orange sky, road, fields and trees encircling us, holding hands and being welcomed with laughter and inviting gestures, and most of all watching Maura smile like that, being so close to this wonderful, beautiful woman – that was the lightest I have ever felt. _

_I as well grew certain of something. This is love. This feels right. We belong._

.

**Challiya, 11th of November 2015**

_Oh, Barry, another story came to mind today, when Maura and I created – and that's what cooking really was like – a wonderful lasagna._

_Do you remember that one night, when you came over after the bank robbery case and the run in with your ex-fiance?It took forever to defrost Ma's lasagna (I guess, only Maura's enormous fridge had not been filled to the rim with leftovers from Frankie's birthday) and we kept checking it, our stomachs growling and you joked about that grandmother of a microwave._

_I knew, you had come to not spend some miserable evening by yourself, even though you guys had parted on good terms, at least on that day. I had felt close to you during that case, so when you came over, it seemed like it was time to tell you something for what I hadn't found the right moment before. It still took me to the end of dinner to finally get it out – to talk about Hoyt and my first encounter with him, before your time at our precinct, and as my partner. _

_(For a moment there I thought about not spelling out his name for the second time in this book, because I've grown very fond my diary (yeah, who would have thought) – but those four letters aren't supposed to have any demonic powers – not ever – so there it is. I know what you're thinking: I had some kind of Harry Potter moment. I still can't believe that you counted yourself to that generation; made me feel so old.)_

_I told you how much I valued our un-rocky, well-defined partnership – and still I kept asking myself, whether people – you included – saw me as someone who can be happy, who has a hopeful view of the future, my future. _

_You were surprised at first, but then you stated very clearly and focused, that there was not one single thing about me which would make you doubt my ability to continue on that exact and good path. High-flying, you added, and except maybe if I wouldn't get rid of that lousy microwave of mine._

_That's when you told me about your buddy from school, was it Victor? I'm sorry, you only mentioned his name once. You told me that he took his life and that it had taken a lot to overcome the steadily nagging what-ifs... In the end, you said, there was only one thing you've learned for sure: It's possible to overcome trauma. _

_I'm still grateful for what you've said, Barry._

_When I think back to that night, I can picture you leave. I can still see the dim light in the stairwell and feel the wood of the door frame I'm leaning against. And if that very moment were to happen right now, I'd stop you, I'd ask you to come back in, I'd take you in a relieved embrace and would have a hard time to let you go again._

_But that's just it. We don't only have to let go when someone's gone and there's no other choice – we've gotta let go each and every day or our lives would be some weird, clingy experience. And if I hadn't let you go that night, if I hadn't practiced that automatically and unaware of what was about to come, then I might not be able to let you go EVER._

_Our story didn't end, it's still growing. How, when and where doesn't need to be defined. It just is. That's something you did. I won't wish that gone anymore, I accept that now... and I'll keep you that way._

_Never before in my life has it been this important to me to imagine, that up in heaven you are looking down on us completely free of pain, secure and happy, and maybe you're trying to yield some of that to us, so we'll be less sad._

_I think, I can let you go now, my friend._

_Love,_

_Jane_


	19. The one that is the Epilogue

**Chapter 19: The one that is the Epilogue**

**Hey guys, thank you for all your lovely reviews – it seems to me that not the update, but the end of this story is coming too soon for some of you. Would you be in for a Sequel? (One yes should be enough to convince me :)**

**Enjoy this last part!**

* * *

From: Jane Rizzoli  
Sent on: Friday, 25th of March 2016  
To: Maura Isles  
Regarding: News

_Dear Maura,_

_I am happy to inform you that the adoption papers came back this morning. Everything appears to be in the right order, the date of birth is correct and so are the names, the one you chose first and then his grandfather's name, just like we discussed. And after that it says "Isles"_

– _so go, tell that little guy that he's yours! You both deserve it._

_I remember how you said you felt overwhelmed at the sight of this tiny baby, no one standing around his bed, which is the whole point of care taking in Challiya's hospital. I told you 'you stood there' and even though you thought it to be pretentious, that you wouldn't qualify for adoption – you still do stand there. I'm glad that you wouldn't leave him. That you let him matter. Cause he does. And so do you and your actions._

_I just came back from the post office, the papers should be in Ethiopia by the day after tomorrow, which means you can pack and go to Addis to arrange the rest. And then PLEASE book a return flight; I am missing you madly. So does Alban. We all do. I'm so glad you'll be home for his birthday._

_AND I even got more good news: BPD issued my request, which means we can go back to Ethiopia in November. With both boys. Oh, and Ma is considering to come with, though I don't know if I can handle that._

_Alban is doing really good, I'm glad I could get Tommy on board with the nanny. TJ and Alban really enjoy themselves – and soon there'll be three of those little guys. It's so nice that they can stay at home and don't have to go somewhere else all day. And Mariam is great, I think you will like her. She knows what she's doing._

_._

_I miss you. I know, I just said that, but... you know. Right? _

_How are you? Does coming home trouble you? I really wish I could pick you up in Addis myself and make it easier for you somehow. I bet it'll be hard for you to say good-bye to Hannes. His unreachable-ness must be about the only thing I hate about him. Can't you give him your smartphone as a farewell present?_

_Ugh, I'm wandering from what I'm meaning to say… which is... well, I've been meaning to ask you whether coming home is troubling you in the sense that you don't know what you're coming home to? I mean, coz we kinda left 'us' unspoken. And I know that what we have doesn't nescessarily make sense n your head. Coz up to this point, we didn't name it. Not our relationship. Not your or my role in it. I sometimes catch myself making one up and then I often wonder, whether that's much harder for you to do, coz you have no studies to consult, and therefore only little of the kind of experience that you usually rely on._

_Does all of that sound awfully vague? If it does, well, I'm unsure of what else to offer. But I guess it only has to make sense in our hearts. For now. It does make sense to me. Yet, it makes me dreadfully nervous to ask you whether it does to you, too._

_I love you._

_Yours,_

_Jane_

_._

_P.S.: Say hello to Hannes, Bacha and Jabeessa, I am thinking of them very often. By the way, have you heard from Simon? He arrived in Sydney safe and sound two days ago._


	20. The one that is the Sequel

_So, the sequel is up – thx to everyone who encouraged it (especially Clody coz u r right) – it's called __**Outside the box. **__I hope you'll enjoy it._

_Is there someone among you who really enjoys reading this story and therefore would not mind to be my beta reader?_

_All the best to all of you!_

_J_


End file.
